Compassion and Pride
by Beccinator
Summary: Valora was abducted from the alienage by Venatori, but escaped with the help of a spirit. But what is this spirit's true motive? Who will be there for the elf if all hell breaks loose? Follow her through her journey of escape, joining the Inquisition, romance, and an issue rising within her that she can only overcome with the help of a young man her heart yearns for.
1. Escape

**Author's Note:** This chapter is dedicated to Valora's "escape." This is some time after the destruction of Haven, approximately two months before the Inquisition's appearance in Halamshiral. Yes, this is a Colemance fiction, so he will come in soon. This is my first fanfiction that I have taken seriously, so I hope you like it. Don't be afraid to leave a review. I'm already stoked with all the attention this story has gotten so far, and I'd be even more grateful if you review, favorite, or follow! This chapter is a bit dark; I hope you like tragedy.

**Disclaimer:** BioWare owns Dragon Age and everything affiliated with the franchise. I'm just here to make them smooch and fight.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Chapter One: <em>_Escape_**

_Those who oppose thee_  
><em> Shall know the wrath of heaven.<em>  
><em> Field and forest shall burn,<em>  
><em> The seas shall rise and devour them,<em>  
><em> The wind shall tear their nations<em>  
><em> From the face of the earth,<em>  
><em> Lightning shall rain down from the sky,<em>  
><em> They shall cry out to their false gods,<em>  
><em> And find silence.<em>

_-Andraste 7:19_

x

_We have to get out of here._

Valora repeated these words in her head as if they were the only ones she had ever known. She was positioned on the cold floor of a cage, head tucked to her knees as she rocked herself back and forth. Her coppery hair was matted with blood and dirt, light skin bruised from head to toe as she lost hope of escaping with every painful second that passed. Although she was surrounded by others – family and friends, in fact – she had never felt so alone.

Her sister reached out to her, placing a trembling hand on her shoulder as if she could transfer any comfort she had to Valora. Other than Valora, her sister was the only one in the small cage with her. The rest of her family and friends were captive in similar cages grouped in a large circle around a fire with numerous hooded figures surrounding the flames. These hooded assailants were the ones who captured nearly everyone from the alienage in Denerim.

"We're going to die, Ana," Valora breathed to her sister. The anguish was almost tangible in her broken voice. Anariel couldn't dismiss this truth, however. She knew as well as Valora that these would be their final moments together. The hooded figures had already entered five of the cages, followed by ghastly cracking noises, banging, and at least two blood-curdling screams. After what seemed like hours of this, the figures would drag the bodies of brutally beaten elves out of their cages and throw them in the massive fire.

There was no escaping death.

Anariel crawled up beside her sister with whatever strength her frail bones had left. They had been trapped in these cages for at least a week with hardly enough sustenance to keep their bodies operative. Valora finally raised her head to look at her sister, her normally bright and cheery green eyes replaced with dark orbs of pure despair. They were glazed over, red and puffy with tears that had long since dried up. She could not bear raising her head to see her parents or friends being torn away from their cage and tossed carelessly into the fire, so she had kept her head down for most of the captivity. The screams alone would be enough to sustain her misery until she met the cold hands of fate herself.

"We have to get away. We can't die like this, we –", Valora felt a painful lump in her throat at her words. They were meaningless. She knew they wouldn't get away, but she needed to hear something to give her hope, anything. Even if they wanted to escape, miles and miles of forest surrounded them. There was nothing that could be done.

Anariel hugged her elder sister close, never wanting to let go of this last moment of life with someone she loved. She wanted nothing more than for them to be okay, back at the Alienage with their parents, having a nice meal at their home which seemed like a distant memory now. They had always hated living at the Alienage, but now it seemed like their former life was a blessing. At least there they had some hope. Here, they knew they had no future to look forward to. There was nothing but a void, a bottomless pit of hopelessness buried deep within them both.

"At least we go together," Anariel spoke, her small voice racked with grief. At twelve years old, Anariel was always thoughtful and optimistic. She had seen the worst but always looked for the best, and Valora admired her for that. Valora, on the other hand, was six years older and was too wise and observant to be optimistic. She knew the ways of the world, and knew that there weren't many people with compassion; there weren't many places with peace. Ferelden was all but crumbling thanks to the war between the mages and Templars. Not to mention the big, gaping holes forming in the sky, unleashing hell upon the world. How could anyone be optimistic?

Valora managed a small smile at her sister as she leaned away to look her in the eyes. Her sister had the most beautiful eyes, a deep blue surrounded by a bright green. Her lashes were long and dark, her hair the shiniest chestnut brown she had ever seen, and Valora was suddenly regretful that she would never see her sister grown into the amazing woman she knew she would be. Valora took her sister by the hands, a reassuring smile forced upon her cracked lips. "No matter what, I'll always -"

_BANG. _

Both of the girls jerked violently and squealed in terror as they realized their cage door had been opened. Their wide, horrified eyes gazed at the hooded figure before them, a blunt weapon in one hand and a readied spell in the other. The figure turned to lock the cages door before emitting a sinister laugh. _Oh, Maker, help us._

"Well, well, what a beautiful sight. Sisters, I presume?"

A woman's voice. Valora could hear a sickening amusement as the woman spoke, and neither of the elves could muster up the courage to answer her. They could only stare, dumb-founded as they knew what was to happen. "Don't you know it's rude to stare?" she growled at them, grabbing a hand full of Valora's hair and jerking until she heard the painful cries she desired from her prisoner. Anariel's eyes flashed and she jumped at the woman, a feeble spark of flames at her fingertips as she clawed at her face, tore at her robes. The woman let go of Valora's hair, hissing at the young elf as she swiped a burning nail across the mage's face.

"No!" Valora was too late, the woman blasted electricity from her palms and sent the young girl stumbling backwards, stunned. Valora immediately crawled toward her sister, grabbing her by the shoulders. Anariel convulsed with shocks throughout her body, but was still able to lift an arm to point a finger behind Valora. She didn't have time to react, however, and the woman grabbed Valora by the hair again, dragging her to the other side of the cage. She screamed out, one hand clawing at the woman's grip while the other reached out to Anariel.

"Such a bond you two have! I will quite enjoy breaking it," she hissed. She slung Valora against the hard wall of the cage and watched her body slump to the floor. Bringing her leathery hood back to reveal a devilish smirk, she turned her heel to face Anariel. In one movement, she drew a dagger and sliced her own palm, drawing blood. Valora's eyes raised at the sound of ripping flesh.

_No, no, no. _

Valora knew exactly what the woman was doing. She had read about blood magic, the most powerful and dangerous magic in existence. This was the magic that started the blight, the magic forbidden by Andraste herself. There was no good intention behind this magic, and Valora was all too aware of this as the blood of the mage swirled about in the air before striking. The crimson tendrils snaked around Valora's arms and legs, binding them together.

She couldn't move, gasping in pain as the tendrils hooked deep into her skin. Valora tried to move, but cried out as the tendrils dug deeper, ripping into muscle. The mage sheathed her dagger and approached Anariel tauntingly, waving the blunt weapon around in front of her. "Now, let's have some real fun, eh?"

A swing and a loud crunch left Anariel shrieking in pain. The mage had smashed one of her knees with the club, breaking her bones and leaving her leg twisted in an abnormal position. Valora's eyes bolted open at the sight of a bloody splinter protruding from the girl's knee. She tried to scream at the woman, but she was muffled as a deep red tendril secured itself around her mouth. The mage wanted her to watch, wanted her to hear her sister's agony. Anariel's screams were enough to send Valora's heart crashing into her chest, breaking into a million pieces. The mage only laughed.

A few moments that felt like an eternity later and the woman had all but broken every bone in the young elf's body before she took her by her bruised arms and headed toward the cage door. Valora was shaking violently, tears staining her cheeks and tattered clothes. Her heart felt as if it had been pierced through with a thousand arrows, left to bleed its anguish out into every part of her being. The mage had made her watch everything. The blood from her sister had been used to pull Valora's eyelids apart, forcing her eyes to stay wide open. There was no pain Valora hadn't felt in those moments of watching her little sister being beaten and broken, flesh torn and bruised, bones smashed to dust.

The older elf's vision was blurry, eyes burning as if they were on fire, heart in pieces residing within the deepest pits of her body. The girl she had loved more than anyone, the one she could tell all of her secrets to, the one who had always brightened up her day with just a smile – she was gone. She watched the life leave her sister's eyes with one final blow to the head. Valora would never forget the way her sister had reached out to her for help, eyes pleading for mercy, and she could do nothing but stare in stark horror. Valora knew this would never heal. Until her dying breath, this would be her final thought of Anariel.

As the mage pulled Anariel out of the cage and threw her into the fire, all of Valora's memories of her flooded into her mind. Twelve years of memories assaulted her mind at once, and she became numb. The smell of burning flesh permeated the air, sickening every sense she had left to feel. _This will all be over soon._ She had to remind herself that death would be her freedom, and it wouldn't be long until she joined her sister in the afterlife.

The mage reappeared in the cage, locking the door behind her and releasing the blood magic that bound Valora. Even so, the elf didn't move, couldn't look away from the fire that consumed her other half.

"That wasn't so bad, was it? Your turn!" The mage practically squealed with delight. When she saw the elf exhibiting no signs of fear, the woman forced Valora's chin up to meet her gaze. "You will answer me when I speak to you," she growled, face close enough for Valora to smell her rancid breath. The elf said nothing, but instead stared blankly into the face of her sister's murderer, _her_ murderer.

_SMACK_!

The woman whipped her palm aggressively against Valora's cheek, earning a pained grunt from the girl. "It's no fun if you don't struggle! _Fight back!_" She sent another blow to Valora's other cheek, another grunt. She wasn't going to play into the mage's hands, wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of knowing how much pain she was in.

"You weren't this calm while I was breaking your sister's little ribs. It was so easy, like snapping a twig between –", a surprised screech escaped the mages lips as Valora wrapped her hands tightly around the woman's neck, snarling like a rabid dog. There was a fire like no other blazing in her eyes, threatening to turn the mage to ash. But unlike the woman in front of her, her power was weak and undeveloped, leaving the mage's neck with nothing but a few harmless blisters. With a hand placed on Valora's head, a loud shock sent her falling backwards instantly, shivering fiercely on the cold floor.

"That's more like it! Show me how much you hate me!"

The mage was enjoying the power, the control she had over a weaker being. The mage kicked a booted foot right in Valora's side, sending her curling in on herself with a shout. _Fight back_, the words echoed in her head over and over, taunting her. She wasn't sure what to do, but she was sure she made a bad move trying to fight a much more powerful being; it would only bring torture. She was doomed, and she lay there in pain accepting that fact. She would not fight back.

"You know, you're a bore. I'm done playing with you." The last thing Valora saw was the mage's club crashing down on her, and then complete darkness.

_I'm dead. Is this what it's like to be dead? The Chantry sure does exaggerate this whole afterlife thing. _The world around her started to brighten up, taking shape, but she was no longer in a cage in the wilds. She was on soft grass, the warm sun shining down on her lithe frame.

"What?" She sat up on the grass and looked around, but the only thing she could see for miles was a beautiful meadow. Flowers danced about in a warm, gentle breeze, giving Valora an overpowering sense of peace. "Where am I?"

"You're in a safe place," a voice startled Valora out of her initial calm. "You will not be harmed any longer."

The elf rose to her feet, turning to face the voice with no face to match. "Who are you?"

"I am a spirit, and I have been observing you for quite some time. I do not wish to see your life ended this way. I can help you," the voice said, gentle and comforting. It offered her life. Valora blinked, gaining focus on what was in front of her: a bright, spectral being. Her breath quickened, realization dawning on her in an instant.

"You're a demon! All of that blood magic must have drawn you here, you don't want to save me!"

"Ah, a wise girl is always cautious. This is what draws me to you. You see, I am a spirit of wisdom, and I can give you information that will save you and in turn, help you save this world. You are confused; let me explain. You have been taken by Venatori, sent to wreak chaos upon the land in confidence that the Elder One will succeed in his plans to create a new world. He will destroy this one in the process, and this is why you will help the Herald stop him," the spirit spoke in a monotone voice, but this information only confused Valora further.

"Herald? Why me? What are Venatori? Who is the Elder One? How can I stop him? What do you want from me . . . if I agree?"

"I want nothing from you, girl. I simply wish to save you, as you will be crucial in protecting this world. I am not of your world, however I do not wish to see it crumble at the hands of a madman. Wisdom will be vital to overpower the enemy. This world is lacking; you must live," it said, and with those words, it extended a bright palm to Valora.

Valora stared in wonder. She knew exactly what the spirit was offering, but was it telling the truth? As a mage, one had to be wary of predicaments like these. This spirit could be lying, could be a demon playing tricks with her mind. But, could it really help her live? She turned the thought over in her head a few times before slowly raising her hand towards the spirit's own, reluctance slowly fading. _What else do I have to lose?_

Valora grasped the spirit's hand, and gasped as she instantly felt power surge throughout every inch of her body. The spirit came closer, merging into her with purpose, bright light entering her body and glowing throughout her skin. Every measure of her being came to life with a brand new zeal, empowering parts of her she didn't know existed. Finally, the spirit was within her completely, causing her eyes to blaze brilliantly with white light. Her bruises lightened, her cracked ribs snapped back into place, and the fracture in her skull healed in an instant, bringing consciousness back to her body. Her shining eyes snapped open to reality, filling the air around them with light as Valora brought air into her lungs.

Valora's previously lifeless body had almost been pulled out of the cage by the woman when suddenly the elf pulled them both back in with a rush of anger. The mage's eyes widened, seeing Valora clear of any affliction and eyes shining brighter than the burning sun. The woman had to close her eyes, temporarily blinded. Valora took advantage of this, breaking free from the mage's grasp with a blast of force. As the woman stumbled about blindly, the elf took the woman's head between her hands.

"Give the Maker my regards," the elf spat. With that, she tapped into her newfound power and circulated a large portion of it into the palms of her hands, delivering electric bolts directly to the mage's skull. Valora growled, mad with power, gripping the mage's head tighter until she felt the flesh melt around her fingers. The woman screamed profusely, her eyes beginning to smoke and bulge. Valora snapped the woman's neck just as her eyes combusted, blood spewing away from the elf's face and onto the cage wall.

The spirit seemed to consume the death greedily, bringing even more energy to Valora's body. Her voice rasped in her head, snarling and grating with unadulterated rage. _I want. . . to kill. . . them all! _She dropped the woman to the floor before tearing the hooded cloak away from the dead body and placing them on herself as a disguise. She pulled the hood up to shelter her identity, and snatched the woman by the feet.

Dragging the mage out of what was formerly her prison, she marched towards the licking flames in the center of the encampment. She hauled her tormentor roughly by the heels, letting her grotesquely scorched head drag the rocky ground. Valora laughed wildly with a sudden rush of adrenaline, flinging the woman's body into the inviting flames before her. As she watched the mage's skin putrefy in the blaze, she growled with satisfaction. _I will have you all._ The other hooded figures surrounding the fire didn't seem to notice her through her disguise, believing she was one of their own. She seemed to play the part well enough. _Daft maleficar. You will be mine_.

Wrath engulfed every fiber of Valora's existence while she looked upon the blood-splattered cages. Any one of those could have belonged to her mother. Her friends. The anger built, causing her skin to take on a sickly green light as she approached the mages—the Venatori.

"Let them go," the elf seethed. Her voice resonated deafeningly, echoing her revulsion throughout the encampment. The Venatori—at least fifteen of them in line, discussing their next kill—turned to see who the ear-splitting voice belonged to. Valora brought the hood back to reveal her eyes, now overtaken with a green radiance that made the Venatori falter for a moment. Only a moment.

"One escaped! And an abomination at that!" a man proclaimed, stepping up to glower down at the elf. "Tell me, girl, who do you think you are to challenge us? How far you think you'll get before— Ach! "

Every mage raised their staff and readied their spells as the man's neck spun around, twisting and cracking, blood spurting from his veins as they were ripped away from his body. He fell, headless, at her bare feet.

Immediately the Venatori fired off every kind of spell at her, each blow absorbed by a clear, unrelenting barrier. The flames, sparks, frost, force; all of the spells crumbled as they came near her, disintegrated into nothing in her midst. Seeing this, the mages ceased their fire. They stared on in fear-stricken awe at the luminous body slowly rising in front of them. She was cackling darkly, a sinister laugh that burned warnings into each mage's heart as she rose above them all.

They were afraid.

Valora ascended to the night sky, her tangled hair flying about, a haunting silhouette against the hard light of the moon. She pressed her palms together, forcing power to strike to life between them. A swirl of black flames burst into existence in her hands, growing larger and larger until the encampment was covered in a radiant eclipse.

_Know me!_ Valora, an avenging angel against the darkness of the heavens, bellowed down at them in a voice known to no one. It resounded like a deafening siren, scratching through their ears until they were forced to their knees.

_Know who you have victimized! _The flames danced wildly in anticipation, craving the destruction of nations. The mages buried their faces in the ground to escape the blaring of the fire, ears leaking with hot, red blood.

_Know that I rule over you! _The Venatori writhed in the mud now, pain striking through their bodies like scorching bolts of lightning. Their mouths opened wide in silent screams for mercy. There would be none.

_Know that I am death! _She bellowed, causing each and every mage to spurt blood from their gaping mouths. She was the weight on their lungs, crushing with the power of a million stone fists. She raised her arms over her head, the blackened fire following her every command, and sent it down upon the supremacists. They burned, turned to cinders with the touch of her flame, leaving no trace behind but ash. There was a loud blare as the fire consumed them, and then quiet.

The world was blanketed in silence as the flames retreated into the sodden earth. Nothing was left in the encampment save for the ash wafting through the air in such a peaceful manner that one would never have guessed what had transpired only moments ago. Valora's vision blurred, specked with black as her body descended slowly toward the ground. The green glow was fading from her skin and eyes, dimming down to nothing as her feet touched the ground.

Her legs wobbled and gave, bringing her to her knees in the wide circle of ashes she had created. She looked around weakly at the destruction of her hand, horrified wonder sending her reeling forward. What had she done? There were still people alive in those cages, but she had demolished it all. What if her parents had still been alive in there? Her friends?

Holding herself up with shaking arms, she stared at the ashes lying below her, eyes glazed with tears. Her breathing sped up along with a terrible commotion in her stomach. She gagged and retched, sickness leaving her body with several heaves. _What have I done? What have I done?_

She should have just ran. Should have left as soon as she was free, never looking back. But she couldn't. She hadn't been in control. Her wrath had overtaken her, pride seeping into her bones. She let the spirit break loose, pulling strings in her that were better left untouched. And she had let innocents pay the price.

She screamed for her mother, her father, the innocents she had slaughtered. Her lungs gave out when she thought of her sister, breaking her lament into thousands of pieces.

She shook with grief, but feeling the extent of the pain seemed to take more energy than she possessed. She crawled through the mud, trying to escape what she'd done, but gravity didn't let her get far before it forced her down to her stomach. Weariness encompassed her bones then, dragging her down into a deep, dreamless sleep.

_It is done._


	2. The First Step

**_Chapter Two: The First Step_**

_Maker, my enemies are abundant._  
><em> Many are those who rise up against me.<em>  
><em> But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion,<em>  
><em> Should they set themselves against me. <em>

_- Trials 1:1_

x

"Is she going to be all right? What was she doing in the Hinterlands?" A curious voice asked.

"No one knows why she was there, but it looks like she was just sleeping; no wounds anywhere. Just a grumbling stomach wearing some messy old rags."

Valora's eyes fluttered open, and she gasped at the unrecognizable territory. She was in a building, on a small bed with a man in full armor and a woman in clean white robes looking down at her. She shot up in the cot, eyes darting around at the unfamiliar setting, stopping only to peer down at her new wardrobe. She seemed to have been bathed and clothed in a set of white robes of her own. Her hair was untangled, soft red strands laying in a smooth pool around her shoulders.

"Well, look who's awake," the woman spoke gently to her, as if Valora would break if she spoke too loud. "I suppose you're wondering where you are. Well, you were knocked out in the Hinterlands for one," she started, "and so our scouts brought you here. Welcome to Skyhold! Well, the infirmary of Skyhold."

The man and woman exchanged glances as Valora remained quiet, eyeing them with evident distrust. "What were you doing out in a dangerous place like that with no protection at all?" The man asked, staring her down as if blaming her for some heinous crime. Memory zapped her attention to a darker place, one too desolate for her to hold back.

"I escaped. I'm free. The—the camp. . . I burned it, but now I'm here. They killed. . . They killed so many of us, so I killed them back," Valora breathed, then realized she was speaking nonsense when they gawked at her in confusion. She just couldn't find a way to make the words come out.

Just then, wisdom filled her thoughts, giving her the words to explain her situation. "I was captured by Venatori. They came to the Alienage in Denerim and took almost all of us from our beds at night. We were caged for a while. They killed a lot of us, but I escaped," she explained, remembering every horrid detail until a certain familiar bright light covered them up, keeping her calm and composed. _Wisdom._

The man and woman exchanged glances again before the woman grabbed her hand to help her up out of the infirmary bed. The nurse handed her a pitcher of water, and Valora gulped it down greedily. She seemed to have regained her strength, but there was a troubled look in her eyes as she placed the pitcher on a rickety table beside the bed. This healer seemed to understand the elf's predicament; there was nowhere else for her to go.

"You must go see the Inquisitor. She should know what to do with you from here. She'll be in the war room, just ask around; I'm sure our people will be more than happy to help," the woman said, smiling kindly at the elf. Suddenly Valora felt bare, exposed at the thought of leaving the room. There was a slight breeze tickling the tips of her ears, reminding her of her offensive nature. A mangled sound escaped her lips as she covered her ears and backed away from the two humans in front of her. She had been taught that humans only sought to belittle and enslave people of her race. And here she was, standing in front of two of the monsters.

She felt a need for the cloak she took from the Venatori woman, a need to hide herself under its hood if she were to be seen by anyone else. No one else could know if she was an elf; no one could subject her to fate at the hands of the quick children. Not again.

"Where is my cloak? I—I can't be seen like this," Valora began to panic, feeling as if the two humans in front of her might shackle and torture her at any moment. The woman's face contorted with worry as she grabbed something from the floor and slowly extended a bundle of dark purple cloth in Valora's direction. The elf inched forward, arm carefully outstretching until her fingertips grazed the leathery cloth. She kept an eye on the woman, scrutinizing each and every move she made as she stepped forward to snatch the cloak out of her hands. She quickly retreated back to the wall and brought the leathery cowl up to cover her ears, fastening the clasp around her neck. She felt safer in this attire, but she did not let her eyes leave the incredulous-looking shemlen for a second as she exited the infirmary.

As she backed out of the building, she spun around to see a fierce woman swinging a sword against a training dummy, slicing the head clean off of its shoulders. Valora cringed. _Geez! Not bothering her_. Her pace quickened. She felt as if gravity were pulling her to her destination, around the corner of a building and up the stairs of a castle. As she reached the top, she gazed in, intimidated by all of the people within—_people_ people.

These were not elves. This was foreign. She had read numerous books about humans and dwarves, but had never seen either of the races many times. Now there were groups of them gathered in the castle's hall, and she started to turn and bolt away. _No, no you'll be fine. They don't know what you are._

Being closed up in the alienage didn't give her much of a chance to see anyone else except for her own kind, and her father was never fond of "shem," as he called them. He was the one who filled her head with notions that humans were atrocities waiting to gobble up anyone who wasn't like them, but these people didn't seem threatening in the least. These humans were dressed in fancy clothes, conversing and laughing with each other; even with the dwarves. Nevertheless, Valora's stomach clenched as she proceeded up the remaining steps to the long hall.

She stepped into the castle, nearly everyone inside turning to gaze at her. She tried not to look at them, but she could feel their beady eyes on her as she made her way through the crowd. _Mind your own business, _she thought angrily. _I am not your entertainment_. They immediately averted their gaze and returned to their conversations, earning a sigh of relief from Valora. Maybe she wasn't as out of place as she thought.

Her intuition pulled her towards the second door on the left. She knew this was the right one, but did not know why. She opened it up, then immediately opened a second one. _Why are there two doors here? _She shook her head before walking through the second door, striding up past a room with a desk in the corner. Eventually she made it to a large door, one she knew led to the war room. Just as she was about to open it, the door flew aside and an elf mere inches taller than her came striding out, colliding with her. They both cried out in surprise and backed away.

_Another elf? _Valora observed the inky black tattoos decorating the elf's forehead and trailing under her eyes. Her black hair was loose, just brushing her shoulders, but it didn't stop her pointed ears from peeking through the dark strands. The woman's skin was tanned from the days she'd spent out in the open under the sun, traveling with her clan. _A Dalish._

_"_I'm so sorry, you must be the Inquisitor?" Valora apologized quickly, feeling much relief at the sight of another elf. She may have asked the identity of the woman, but she already knew. Something deep within her told her this was who she was looking for.

"I am. Inquisitor Lavellan. And you are?" Lavellan asked in return, looking the hooded elf girl up and down, silently questioning her choice of clothing. The young girl wore a purple cloak, dark stains splotching the hood and shoulders. It looked as if it had been cleaned, but not well enough. The Inquisitor could see a glint in the girl's eyes, one that were familiar to the people of her clan. It didn't take long for her to catch on that the girl was an elf; her high cheekbones and narrow nose would have given her away if her eyes hadn't first.

"My name is Valora, I was sent to speak to you by the woman in the infirmary. Your scouts found me in the wilds, but now I have nowhere else to go. She said you would know what I should do," the cloaked elf spoke quickly, eager to speak to one of her own.

Inquisitor Lavellan stared at the young girl, pausing in confusion at her excitement. She sighed. Why did everyone always lay problems down at her feet to solve? The only thing that gave her rank around here was her glowing hand. Suddenly she was a leader because she could close rifts, but knew nothing else of real responsibilities outside of her clan. Regardless, she wanted to help this lost girl find a place.

"Why don't you accompany us in the tavern later for a meal? We could get introductions underway and settle that . . . dragon in your stomach," the Inquisitor joked. It was true, Valora's stomach was making all sorts of grumbling noises. She had chosen to ignore it, as well as every other pain that might have dwelled within her. The hunger was there, however, and the young elf accepted the Inquisitor's offer.

The Inquisitor decided Valora should have a decent tour of the castle, as well as find her quarters, so Lavellan directed her to the one who knew Skyhold better than anyone else.

* * *

><p>Solas was in his study, seated in front of his desk. He was eyeing a particularly odd object the Inquisitor had found on one of her journeys throughout Orlais. The item emitted a strange tune, a haunting melody as it shone ominously.<p>

Just as Solas was leaning in to inspect the object further, his door opened, breaking his focus. He raised his head to see a young woman in a stained purple cloak, hood raised to cover all but the bottom half of her face and gingery hair snaking down the front of her robes. He stood from his seat, feeling a strange familiarity from this person, but who was she?

"May I help you?" he asked cautiously. The girl turned her face up toward him. She looked nervous, as if she did not want to enter. He could tell she was uncomfortable, and her gaze held something. _Fear?_

"What – what is that song? Why is it so loud?" she practically yelled across the room at him, bringing up her hands to cover her hooded ears. She looked around the room frantically, trying to find the source of the music, until her eyes finally stopped on the object Solas had been studying just seconds ago.

He found where her eyes were locked and picked the item up from its place. He knew these things – shards – carried a melody, but he did not understand why she was hearing it so loudly. _Unless . . ._

She uncovered her ears as he touched the shard. The music stopped. Her eyes shifted from him to the shard and back several times. "How did you do that? What is that thing?" the girl inquired, stepping closer to him while her eyes never left the shard.

"This seems to be a key of sorts," he murmured vaguely, staring intently at her. His answer was almost mindless. There was something stirring in his thoughts that he could not place as she stepped up to him. Something about her seemed off, different. He sensed a light tremor in the air when she moved, as if her being was stirring the world around them. He sensed magic, but there was something else wavering the space around her. _Strange._

He kept the shard in his hand, afraid the music may continue if he lost his hold on it. Solas recollected himself and smiled at the girl. "It is a work in progress . . . I apologize, we have not been properly introduced, I am Solas," he said formally.

_Solas. . . _Why did that name—that word—ring familiarity in her ears? Valora tried her best to smile at the man before her, another of her kind, but Wisdom was stirring, making her restless. It was if it was trying to tell her something, but she couldn't comprehend. She felt a warmth in his presence nonetheless, and so she spoke to the elf before her: "Valora Levisan. Nice to meet you, Solas."

"What has brought you to my study this evening?"

"The Inquisitor told me that you could give me a tour of the place . . . If that's okay, I mean, I don't want to be a bother or anything. If you're busy I can –"

Solas calmly lifted a hand to silence her, an amused smile crossing his lips at her nervous rambling. "It is no trouble. Follow me; I will show you every place Skyhold has to offer." He walked around her to the door she had come through earlier. Valora knew she should be cautious around new people, but she couldn't help feeling strangely comfortable with the man.

As they toured the castle, they spoke of various topics. She discovered he was even more scholarly than she. They spoke excitedly about their studies on magic and the Fade. Although Valora did not have any experience with controlled magic, she understood quite a bit from all the texts she had looked over. Her curiosity about life outside of the alienage had brought her to spend most of her time with her nose buried in books. It offered a release from the rat-infested part of Denerim that she, sadly, called home. It was no surprise to learn that Solas knew a great deal more about the world than she. Solas' knowledge of the Fade impressed Valora to no bound; she wanted to dream like he did, go to otherworldly places. She was incredibly jealous. As they learned more about each other, she harbored a deep respect for him and the wisdom he possessed. In a way, they were very much alike.


	3. Welcome to the Family

_**Chapter Three: Welcome to the Family**_

_Remind me not, remind me not,_  
><em>Of those beloved, those vanish'd hours,<em>  
><em>When all my soul was given to thee;<em>  
><em>Hours that may never be forgot,<em>  
><em>Till Time unnerves our vital powers,<em>  
><em>And thou and I shall cease to be.<em>

_Remind Me Not, Remind Me Not - Lord Byron_

X

_This is quaint,_ Valora thought to herself. She stood in the center of her new room, a spacious concrete structure built atop the battlements. A sizable bed was nestled in the left corner, next to a small table with a lit lantern resting upon the wooden surface. A large, red carpet lay beneath her feet, covering a great section of the fractured stone floor. There were cracks blemishing the ceiling and walls, allowing cold air to filter in through the worn bricks. Other than the chilly draft, this place was cozy.

It was several steps up from her space at the alienage; she'd had to share a small, rickety room with her sister. They had owned two cots, pushed together to make way for a small dresser filled with tattered clothing that barely fit their growing figures. The floorboards would creak no matter where one stepped, and there was no door—no privacy.

Yes, Skyhold was definitely a nice place.

She strode over to the bed and trailed a hand along the soft, thick fabric of the blanket. _A blanket. _It was a tint so to match the carpet, and it was softer than the weathered pages of any book she'd ever laid hands on. A glint reached her eyes as she gazed upon the cloth, remembering the tattered sheet she and her sister used to share. It was never warm enough—never big enough to accommodate the two young elves. But here, now, _this_ would be. Valora wished Ana could see this, share this moment with her in a brand new life. She wished her sister could have known how it felt to sleep in a real bed inside a real room. "Do you see this, Ana?" Valora blinked back the watery sensations in her eyes, speaking to no one. "I wish you could," she breathed, her lips quivering ever so slightly in remembrance.

_But you've gone away from me._ Her heart clenched. It took all she had to force the tears back, and her fist tightened around the thick sheet as she fought the memories. Back down into the dust she buried them, under the cloud of her newfound spirit. It was enough to lift the weight from her heart and relax her grip, but the memory could never be gone. A thin veil shrouded the pain, but it could just as easily be ripped away.

Valora turned, hearing two firm knocks at the door. She abandoned the bed to answer the call, opening the door to find a middle-aged human woman standing rigid in the doorway. The first thing Valora noticed was the tattoo: a bright orange sunburst in the middle of the woman's forehead. She knew exactly what it meant.

"Miss Valora, I have been sent to inform you that the Inquisition is awaiting you in the Herald's Rest." The tranquil stated, staring at Valora with pale, lifeless eyes. It made her shudder; the woman seemed to look right through her and to a place far beyond the world's comprehension. It was sad, but the elf made no comment on her condition. Instead she gave a slight smile of gratitude, nodding at the Tranquil as she would anyone else.

"Thank you. I remember the way," Valora said. In truth, the elf didn't want to spend a second longer than she had to with the woman who eyed her as if she couldn't truly _see _her. It was nothing against Tranquil, but the absence she felt hollowing within the woman was tangible. It was painful. The Tranquil didn't know that, however. She only knew to serve with no true grasp on anything to strive for beyond what others required of her. Valora wondered what the woman did to deserve such a fate, and she desperately wished she could take it away. Tranquility was no way to be; it was simply a way to breathe while you were dead. Yet death seemed a brighter alternative to living in a shell devoid of purpose. Hollow. _Empty._

The woman nodded curtly and made her way across the battlements, back to the post she was stationed at in Skyhold's castle. Valora waited a few minutes before trekking out of her room, making sure the woman was far out of sight before making her way to the tavern on the lower level of the stronghold. Solas had mentioned during the tour that the tavern could be reached from the building just across the way from her own room.

So she slipped across the battlements, now covered in the dim light of noon, and reached the door to the next stony room. She opened it to find it unexpectedly dark, no lantern to brighten up the atmosphere. _This room must be vacant,_ she thought. Through the darkness, she spotted a crack of light seeping through the bottom of a door. As she neared it, she heard loud voices, laughter, and the sound of a skilled bard strumming a cheerful song to entertain the patrons within. Valora pulled the door open and was welcomed with the light of several torches lined along the walls. She stepped into the dim-lit tavern and worked her way over to the railing.

Peeking over, she found a group of people already settled at a large, wooden table full of food in the middle of the room. A knot formed in her stomach, and she suddenly felt her nerves working up. _What if they don't like me? Maker, what if they kick me out? _She slowly shuffled along the railing, tip-toeing cautiously out of sight.

"We won't kick you out," she could swear she heard someone say. Turning around in a whirl of surprise, Valora was faced with nothing. Looking right, left, up, and right again, she saw no one. _Great, now I'm going mad._ Shaking her head, she made her way down each set of stairs to accompany the group below. Regardless of her newfound insanity, she strangely started feeling less nervous about meeting the members of the Inquisition. Those that she had met so far seemed to accept her with no questions asked. Well, not many questions, at least.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and made eye-contact with the Inquisitor, who immediately perked up and raised a hand to beckon the girl over. "Ah, Valora! Great you could make it! Come, sit," the Inquisitor shouted at her gleefully, a pitcher of ale settled on the table in front of her. She did as she was told, stepping around the table to take a seat beside the Inquisitor and a man with a neatly groomed mustache.

A plate was set before her full of an array of foods, none she eyed more than a tender-looking drumstick. She licked her lips and snatched it by the bone, temporarily disregarding every person at the table as she lifted the meat to her mouth. The hungry elf took a large bite—perhaps a bigger bite than she should have—and gnawed greedily. Just as she was about to swallow the poultry down, something caught her eye: two hefty, pointed horns growing from a man's head. _A qunari! _Valora nearly choked on her food in her initial shock. She had only read about these people, but had never seen any in person. She was fascinated at the qunari man situated at the end of the table, watching his movements carefully and recalling the texts she had studied on these majestic creatures—

"Hello? Val? Are you even listening?" The Inquisitor waved a strangely marked hand in front of Valora's face. _Val. _Only her sister had ever called her that. She still remembered her voice, high and flecked with delight. Anariel's laughter echoed in her mind, reminding her of how she would never get the chance to feel the joy it produced again. _No, snap out of it. Now is not the time to dwell. _Valora shook her head to wave away the thoughts and forced a smile, turning to the elven woman beside her.

"I'm sorry, I must have missed it. What were you saying?"

"I was introducing you, but I realize I know almost nothing about you. You did only arrive this morning. Why don't you introduce yourself?"

"Oh, I, Uh—of course!" She placed the once bitten drumstick ruefully back on her plate. Valora's eyes scanned the people around her. Their faces were easily lit by the luminescence of the firelight, making the elf nervous as she noticed all of their eyes were on her. _Inquisitor, pretty woman who's overdressed, the qunari, a rather handsome blonde man, a dwarf, and the mustache man. _She addressed them all: "I'm Valora. I come from Ferelden—Denerim to be exact—and I, well . . ." She paused, trying to figure out how to continue.

"Tell us how you got here, Val, I never heard the story," Inquisitor Lavellan filled the brief silence, urging Valora to continue speaking. With that, Valora sighed and began her story from the beginning.

"There were these mages, the Venatori. There were a whole swarm of them, and they took all of us from Denerim." She paused, her eyes flitting down to the plate of food in front of her. Suddenly her stomach felt weak, and she decided they could make do without all the details. She continued her tale, telling them of her escape—sparing a few facts about her treatment during the week of captivity. All of the facts that she could remember, that is. Each person listened intently to her as she spun her story, giving gasps of shock and cheers when deemed appropriate.

". . . And so that's how I knocked her out and took the key. That's how I escaped."

They all stared at her. No way could she have taken on a Venatori agent with nothing but a bucket and an old sock! Okay, so maybe she filled in the juicy bits with her own imagination, but it was true for the most part—all of it that she could recall. The dwarf whistled as her story came full circle.

"That would make for a decent read," he told Valora, but she shook her head.

"I don't think that would make a good story. Who would want to read about something like that? Seems a bit farfetched to me," she said. Not even she could believe all of the things that happened. Even though she may not have mentioned the part where she was an abomination. Or that she used to live in the alienage. Or the part where she was forced to see her sister—_no. Stop thinking about it, s_he warned herself, pushing the thoughts back into Wisdom's cloud. She couldn't break down here in front of everyone. She couldn't show that kind of weakness.

"Oh, I think I could make it work," the dwarf said, a tone of smugness littering his voice. She smiled at him, admiring his confidence.

"As you wish. But I get half the profits," she joked, and was proud by the chuckles she received from the group. The mirth gave her a warm tingle in her chest. _They like me._

"So, now that that's over with, may I get to know everyone else?" Valora inquired to the rest of the group, her voice smooth and enthusiastic. They obliged, each one speaking their name and their position in the Inquisition as they feasted merrily.

_"_I am Inquisitor Lavellan, as you know. I'm in charge of these louts," she started, earning a few chuckles and a few protests, "and I can close big tears in the sky with this." She opened up her left palm and it glowed brightly with energy. _Wow. _Valora had a _lot _of questions after these introductions. Her eyes roamed to the over-dressed lady.

"Josephine Montilyet, I am the ambassador of the Inquisition. Pleased to meet you," she said with a heavy Antivan accent. Valora didn't like it at all. Why did they have to roll their tongues so much? She smiled at the pretty woman even so, then eagerly turned to the man directly across the table from her.

"The name's Iron Bull. I'm the real lout this Inquisitor is talking about," he laughed. Valora was intrigued, listening to his gruff voice and watching the movements of his incredibly large muscles flexing with each subtle move. She was reminded of the dragons she'd heard about in stories, especially by the way his horns branched out and curved up, sharpening into deadly points at the tips. A qunari was definitely a foreign sight to her, but she didn't expect the horns to be so large! _Wow, low ceilings must be a pain for him._

"I hired his crew originally as mercenaries, but he's somehow found a warm spot in my heart. Isn't that right, Bull?" the Inquisitor twittered in a mock-affectionate voice, batting her eyelashes in his direction.

"All right, all right, don't get too sappy on me, boss."

Their banter earned a laugh from Valora and the Inquisitor both. Valora was starting to feel more and more comfortable around this group as they addressed her with no judgments. They treated her like anyone else, never once putting her out of place. She felt as if she was already a part of the Inquisition, though they would likely never have her. Everyone else had a place, but how would she ever fit into such a talented group? She barely had any talents.

The handsome blonde man cleared his throat, preparing to introduce himself. Valora was all too eager to listen. Though he was a human, and she was always warned away from his kind, she couldn't deny his attractive features. They seemed to make him more interesting somehow. She pushed her plate away—now littered with scraps—and propped an elbow up on the table, resting her chin in her palm as she waited for the man to speak.

"I am Commander Cullen, leader of the forces of the Inquisition and –"

"—and very bad at card games," the dwarf interrupted. Cullen's expression faded from a smug smile to a look of disbelief, aimed directly at the dwarf.

Josephine snickered at his playful insult. "It is true! My, this one time we were playing Wicked Grace and he had to str—"

"ENOUGH!" Cullen shouted, face heating up with a bright shade of red. Valora couldn't help but think he looked like a bashful mabari pup. He seemed so intimidating and professional at first, but now he seemed like a nervous boy, cornered by his friend's teasing. Valora found it incredibly charming.

"We'll save that tale for another day," the Inquisitor whispered to Valora.

Next up for introductions was the dwarf who had mentioned making a story out of her questionably exaggerated tale earlier. He seemed eager to speak, straightening up in his chair until she noticed his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing prominent chest hair set off by a large circular necklace. "Varric Tethras!" He announced his name boisterously. _Well, this one sounds important._ "Rogue, storyteller, and the most valued member of the Inquisition!" _Yep. Definitely important._

Valora couldn't help but think the man might continue his grand introduction for a few long minutes if someone hadn't snorted. Valora jumped as she heard muffled laughter from beneath the table. "Oh, great. This again," the Inquisitor mumbled, dropping a husk of half-eaten corn back onto her plate. She struck out with her foot and kicked something with a loud _thoomp_.

"Ow! You elves and your damned tempers," a high-pitched, annoyed voice spat. It wouldn't have seemed such an odd thing to say if the voice hadn't come from a thin, blonde elf who proceeded to climb her way out from under the table to sit in a vacant seat beside Cullen. Her hair looked as if it had been chopped off with a blade, and her eyes were swimming. She was anything but sober.

"This gem of a woman is Sera. She. . . Well, she's got friends in low places," the Inquisitor chuckled.

"Yeah, and we know where to stick an arrow," she slurred, then burped indifferently. "So what's this one, eh? Another one of us to take down the Coryphe-thingy?" Sera took a look at Valora's cloak. It seemed that Sera was having trouble judging exactly what the red-haired elf was wearing before it clicked in her drunken mind. "Oh, no. Not another one of them glowing, fadey people." Her nose scrunched in disgust.

"Sera doesn't like magic, but _fortunately_ she has no problem with mages," a man's voice beside Valora spoke for the first time. She turned to look at him, the fireplace behind her casting a clear light over his features. _Mustache. _Valora had to try not to stare. "Speaking of handsome mages, I am Dorian of House Pavus. I am curious, however; that cloak you wear, is it a fashion statement or do you enjoy looking like you're about to perform blood magic at any given moment?"

"I guess I just . . . found it lying around." Valora realized she couldn't remember what had happened. She had been preoccupied trying to cover up the memory with Wisdom's power and had improvised much of her tale. _What did happen?_ She decided to let the cloud covering up her memory fade, and as it dissipated, a strike of pain sent her reeling forward in her seat. She closed her eyes tightly, pressing her fingers to her temples to ease the sharp ache. Suddenly there was a tormented voice from across the table, one she wouldn't soon forget.

"Guilt grinding in my gut, heart wrenched while I watch her break. Shaken, shattered and shackled; I can't move, can't save her. She burned, wasted away in the flames and it's—it's _my fault._"__

Valora would have screamed if she weren't frozen in shock. Her head snapped up as soon as she heard him. There had been a blaze of thick black smoke, and then a young man sat in the vacant seat next to the ambassador. His head was bowed and a large hat curved to shield his face. He was the one who spoke, his voice just above a whisper. It was enough to grasp the protective veil on her mind and tear it away, leaving her completely open.

"White hot light flashing at my fingertips, _need_ _to_ _let_ _it_ _out_. It torches me on the inside, billowing and burning, bursting with black. When she dies I'm not me; I'm someone else—someone stronger, but scattered and scared. _Maker, I'm scared_," the man continued in an anxious tone, his voice breaking as he absorbed her every emotion. Valora's eyes widened as he spat out her innermost thoughts, and everyone else at the table seemed to follow her lead—struck dumb at his sudden outburst.

"Deaths for a death, lives for a life. Can't be that anymore, it isn't me; have to forget, _let me_ _forget._" The man was visibly shivering in his seat, retreating back into himself. _"_She wears the dead woman's hood, hurting, hiding, hating herself for being her. For not being able to help," he mumbled, raising his head to gaze in Valora's direction. Between Valora's hazy vision and the dark shadows his hat cast upon his face, she could barely make out his expression, but she could feel his stare. His features were haunting in the shadows, and she noticed the frown set upon his lips as the firelight momentarily sparked across his face. In that brief second of light, the man looked completely anguished, as if he could feel Valora's pain by some sixth sense. Seeing him in the light sent an eerie chill across her skin, but she didn't know why. All she knew was that she wanted to disappear; she felt bare, and no amount of clothing could cover this exposure. A tear streamed down Valora's cheek as he laid out her haunted past; one she was trying desperately to forget.

"You couldn't save her, it isn't your fault. You were beaten, broken, bound to the floor. There was nothing—"

"_Stop!" _

Valora banged her fists on the table, rattling the tableware as she stood. Her chest was heaving with deep breaths and her teeth were bared in a menacing glower. She had nothing left to say, she just needed to get away from everyone, from _everything_. The group watched Valora in silent surprise as she knocked her chair to the floor and bolted out of the tavern's door. As soon as she was gone, the focus was on the man. He stared towards the open tavern door, his mouth agape with horror at what he'd just caused. No one said a word; they were all too confounded. Well, all except for Sera.

"Holy shite, look what creepy did! And I thought that thing couldn't get any worse."


	4. The Moon

**Author's note: **Hello! Thank you so much for your follows and favs. There aren't much, but I literally can't tell you how happy it makes me. (Thank you DL for your review! I do plan on continuing this story. I already have a lot planned out! And I totally agree with the Inquisitor thing. The Inquisitor doesn't really seem like they would be a good choice for Cole. I thought of someone along the lines of young and not particularly experienced with life, so they could learn together. The Inquisitor just seems kinda more like a parent-figure to me.) I'll try to post once a week, but I'm super busy with school and whatnot. I only really have time to write during the weekends. Anyway, enough rambling. Hope you like the chapter!

* * *

><p><strong><em>Chapter Four:<em>**

**_The Moon_**

x

Valora lay face down on her bed, tears drenching the pillow as she wept uncontrollably. Her fists were clenched tightly on the pillowcase, clinging to it as if it could offer any solace. This was the first time she had truly mourned; the first time she had allowed herself to remember. Now it seemed like too much. Like she had nothing to live for. Her breaths were jagged, heart pounding irregularly as she recalled the dying light in her sister's eyes. _It's all my fault._ She couldn't take it, she _needed_ to forget. _Maker, let me forget._ She had tried urging Wisdom to cover up the memory, but the spirit had stubbornly resisted, leaving her to fend for herself.

"What good are you?" she shouted at the spirit viciously. "Why won't you let me forget like you did before? Why can't you stop the pain? I can't take this!" Valora raised to settle on her knees, sobbing into her hands. "Why won't you help me?"

Suddenly she felt the stir of a presence in the room. Her bloodshot eyes lifted to find the Inquisitor and Solas entering the room through the battered doorframe. They felt Valora needed an explanation for the young man's sudden outburst. Valora thought she needed to be alone, but she could not have been happier to see these two coming to check on her. _Someone cares. _She wasn't expecting anyone to care.

"Valora, I apologize for Cole's behavior. He was only trying to help," Solas spoke softly to her. At the sight of Solas, Wisdom quickly shrouded Valora's memories again, as if it had been waiting for the right moment. Almost instantly she regained her composure, wiping her tear-stained cheeks and settling her rapid heartbeats. The Inquisitor made her way to Valora's bed, sitting down beside her and placing a comforting arm around her shoulder.

"I know it can be off-setting, but that's just how he is. He can sense people's pain. He's, well . . ."

"A spirit of compassion," Solas finished bluntly, not content to beat around the bush. "It is his first instinct to help people in pain, as any benevolent spirit would."

Valora gawked. Solas' words reminded her of her encounter with Wisdom. Was that boy the same as she? But she wasn't technically a spirit. How could a spirit be a person? She had never heard of a spirit with a human body unless they were possessed. _That's just not right._

"So he _is_ a spirit? He _is_ compassion?" Valora asked, suddenly very intrigued. She tilted her head slightly and peered at the hairless elf across the room. He sighed, a look of deep thought crossing his features.

"It is not that simple. He is a spirit, but he retains the body of a young man. He has not been completely clear with his origin; however, I cannot discern any malicious intent in Cole. He seems only to want to help. We can be sure he meant no harm in what he has said tonight," Solas told her, his tone matter-of-fact. Valora suddenly felt a jab of guilt at storming away from the man in such a rage when she realized he was really only trying to help.

"Is he okay? He's not upset with how I left, is he?" Valora asked this to the Inquisitor, who paused before she raised from her position beside Valora to stand beside Solas.

"He isn't taking it very well. In fact, he wanted to make you forget and try it over again, but you left too quickly for him to have a chance," Inquisitor Lavellan said, frowning slightly.

"Make me forget?"

"Ah, yes, another thing. As a spirit, Cole has the ability to make others forget him, or simply fail to notice him at all. He is unique; I have never seen anything like him in all of my years of research and travel," Solas reported hastily. "But, perhaps you should get some rest, if you've no more questions?"

"No. No more questions. Thank you," Valora said thoughtfully. With a smile from each of the two elves, they left, closing the door to leave Valora alone in her quarters. _He can make me forget? Can he make me forget . . . everything?_ Her thoughts kept her occupied as she lay in her bed, until finally her mind drifted, and she fell into a deep sleep.

_She was running, her sister cradled in her arms protectively. They were escaping together, fleeing from the group of mages who threatened their lives. It was only when Valora looked back when she realized they were being chased. Her heart beat faster, her hands clutching onto her sister with all of her strength, feet pounding on the moist earth with all of their fervor. She would not let her sister down this time. She would not lose Anariel again. Never._

_Breaking off to the left to hide inside of a thick, hollowed tree, she watched the Venatori run straight ahead, deeper into the forest. The mages had lost them. Breathing many sighs of relief and exhaustion, she smiled, her lips turning up to uncover a row of white teeth. "We won, Anariel. We're free!" She looked down at her sister, who remained cradled in her tired arms. But Valora's eyes widened, mouth gaped to form a scream as the girl in her arms had become a grotesque corpse, a decaying skeleton caked with charred flesh. The corpse's mouth gaped open, filled with bloodied dirt and a swarm of maggots._

NO! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!_ She was shaking, pressure gripping at her shoulders tightly, weighing her down. She felt as if she would fall down into a never-ending abyss, be swallowed by the ever-growing darkness that always threatened to suffocate her. She could feel the atmosphere dissolve around her. She was finally dying, drowning in the deepest depths of her sorrow when – _

_"__Please,_ wake up!" She regained consciousness, feeling the same pressure on her shoulders, the same tight grip that was intent to drag her away from this world only moments ago. Her eyes shot open to find the strange boy from the tavern hovering over her, staring down at her. Valora could see the panic in his dark eyes, illuminated dimly by the lantern at her bedside table. He immediately stopped shaking her once he realized he had woken her and released his grip on her shoulders, backing away and lowering his head apologetically.

"I – I'm sorry. You were having a nightmare. I was trying to help," he stuttered over his words, as if any of them would set Valora into a rampage. She sat up in her bed, rubbed her eyes, and then looked Cole over. She could see he was wearing dirty, poorly stitched leathers and the same questionable hat. He stared at the ground, hands fidgeting, waiting to be yelled at for disturbing her sleep. Valora did not yell.

"Thank you," she whispered, giving him the courage to peek up from beneath the rim of his hat. He was relieved there would be no anger this time. He despised anger; it was harder to help someone who was angry. Valora just stared at him wordlessly until he shifted his feet to step towards her once more.

"You were hurting a lot, and I messed up when I tried to help. I didn't say it right . . . I made it worse." He murmured, guilt palpable in his small voice. "Will you let me try again?"

Even with the dark shadows shrouding half of his features, his expression was undeniably genuine; he did only want to help. Valora knew she would be getting no more sleep after the terror of her latest dream, and she couldn't just say no to someone so willing to try to ease her pain. That's what she wanted most. She nodded to him, standing up from her bed as he turned to walk toward the door. She followed him out onto the battlements overlooking the snowy mountains. The air was fairly peaceful as it swirled around Skyhold, causing Valora's cloak to billow under the light of the moon.

Valora was cold-natured, and even now she had not grown accustomed to the freezing air of the Frostbacks. _I see how it got its name . . . _She stared across the whitewashed mountains, crossing her shivering arms over her chest to preserve heat. Cole took a seat on the edge of the wall, much to Valora's horror.

"I won't fall," he soothed her, feeling her worry slowly fade. She strode over to where he was, not trusting herself too close to the edge; she wasn't known for her impeccable balance. As she neared, he looked up at her. The moon seeped under his hat, causing the shadows to vanish from his eyes. Valora felt an icy shiver that had nothing to do with the climate crawl down her spine as she returned his gaze, her breath hitching in her throat. He had pale, blonde hair that strung down into his cold eyes. And those haunted eyes did more than just look; they penetrated deep into her mind. Valora could almost feel him picking her brain apart to scrutinize any and every memory she had to offer him.

"What happened that night . . . Your sister . . . I am sorry," he started. "You feel like you could have stopped it, like it's your fault. It's not."

She swallowed a knot in her throat and sat down away from the edge of the wall, but near enough for him to be able to look over at her. As she lowered to a cross-legged sitting position, his eyes followed, causing his hat to tilt back down. Their gaze was severed by the dark shadows of his hat as they once again consumed his eyes. Valora let out a breath of relief she didn't know she'd been holding before she spoke.

"If I had just fought harder, I could've–"

"No. You were strong. You did what you had to do. You did all you could."

"But it wasn't enough. I couldn't stop her in time! I could have stopped her, but I didn't! And now she's dead. And I—I . . ." Valora turned her face away from him, not wanting him to see her tears as they painfully welled up in her eyes. She pulled the cloak's hood down over her face, trying to shield her pain from him, but to no avail.

"It wasn't you. You couldn't have saved her. But you did save yourself, and she would be happy to know that. You lived, and now your sister won't be forgotten. She is still there, in you," he said in a low tone, his voice sincere and smooth. A voice of compassion.

Valora pondered this, searching for reason in his words. _If I died, no one would remember us. No one would care._

"It is better that you survived. Ana would have wanted you to. She would want you happy."

_Ana . . . _He was right. What if Anariel had seen her sobbing like this? It would break her heart to know Valora's heart was broken. Maybe there was nothing she could have done to save her sister. But she can live now, and her sister's memory will live on with her. Maybe Ana wasn't here, but she wasn't gone. Suddenly Valora didn't want to forget the pain; there was much strength to be gained from overpowering grief. _Maybe it's not my fault._

"You're still afraid of them. You wear the dead woman's clothes to hide."

Cole suddenly shifted, moving closer to her. He crouched in front of her then, causing Valora to stir uneasily. Another glow settled over his features as he faced the light in the sky. She warily looked up from the confines of her hood and found his crystalline eyes boring into hers.

"You don't need to hide anymore," he said, lifting a gloved hand to the brim of her hood. "You are safe here." He pulled her hood back, exposing her pointed ears and coppery hair that fell in loose curls down her shoulders.

Valora was frozen in place by his gaze and close proximity, her green eyes wide open to stare back into his; they seemed almost treacherous despite his soothing words. His irises held the color of steel under the moon's bright glow, only reminding Valora of two sharpened daggers as they pierced deeply into her mind. Her lips parted as if to say something, but only offered a slightly choked noise. Suddenly Cole released his hold of her cloak and tilted his head to the side.

"Sometimes when I listen to you, I can't understand. It's like someone is trying to think louder than you, and your mind gets twisted—tangled. It isn't like that with anyone else," he said curiously. She tore her gaze away, instead staring at her hands in her lap.

"Cole, are you really a spirit?" she asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Yes. Well, almost. I used to think I was a ghost. I made mistakes . . . But I got better. Now I can make people forget about me when they see me, or not see me. In that way, I am like a spirit. But, Varric thinks I can be a real person, if I try. Other spirits aren't like me. They don't look like me. They can't do the things that I can. In a way, I feel human, but not."

A perplexed look crossed Cole's face as he spoke. This seemed to be a difficult subject to cover for him. He really didn't know exactly what he was, as if he was caught somewhere in between this world and the world beyond.

"So you don't really know for sure?"

"I need to be here. I need to help people. That is all I know," he said honestly.

That was enough for Valora.

"Sometimes my thoughts are muddled because I," she started nervously, "I let a spirit inside of me. A spirit of wisdom. It's new for me, so sometimes I get confused. I think one thing, and it thinks another, and it's hard to be certain which thoughts are mine and which aren't," she admitted to him, pausing over words to think and collect what thoughts she knew were her own.

He nodded, as if he suspected as much, and knitted his fingers together before speaking again. "I knew someone like that, once. She was old and stern, but good inside . . . Bright, like you," Cole stated. Valora raised her head to give him a questioning look, and was met with a gentle gaze.

Valora noticed the subtle change in his eyes and couldn't help but admire the delicate moonlight reflecting off of his bright orbs, making them sparkle charmingly. They weren't as cold anymore, seeming to warm up kindly as he spoke of her. _Oh, Maker. _An elusive shade of red spread along her cheeks as she realized she'd been staring, not responding, as if she was in the middle of a trance rather than a conversation.

"I–I'm bright?"

"Yes. But not too bright. I can still see you."

Valora was confused. What in Andraste's name was this boy even talking about? How could a person be _bright? _That was a trait for fire, or the sun, not for an elf who barely knew where she was or why she was even alive. She shook her head and looked up at the night sky. This brought a smile to her face when her eyes landed on a particular soft, yet strong, light.

"So, I'm like the moon?" Valora joked lightheartedly. But Cole turned his chin up, pensively gazing at the bright sphere in the dark expanse of sky. He allowed the smallest of smiles to curl on his lips as he studied the source of the night's soft glow.

"Yes . . . you're just like the moon."


	5. Unveil

**_Chapter 5:_**

**_Unveiled_**

x

Valora was practically radiating exhaustion the next morning. She hadn't slept at all; instead, she had been talking to Cole until the sun rose above the mountaintops. They talked about whatever subject was stumbled upon: likes, dislikes, wars, the Inquisition and its members, the future, the past . . .

He filled her in on what the Inquisition was up against. From what Valora could gather from Cole's habitually enigmatic speech patterns, there were wars between rebel mages and rogue Templars that the Inquisition needed to put an end to. But the biggest threat was an evil magister by the name of Corypheus. Valora didn't like the sound of that name; the name itself sounded like a threat to engulf the world in flames. She was more than eager to change the subject once she'd heard that he may be in control of a potential archdemon.

She had asked about his past, curious still from the talk with the Inquisitor and Solas just the night before. She wanted to know how he came about; how a spirit could materialize as a human with no possession involved. She received no answers. Cole wasn't quick to talk about his past; however, he did mention having a friend back at the White Spire. Valora recognized the place's name from a book she had once found hidden away under a pile of rubble at the alienage. The White Spire was a Circle of Magi and Templar stronghold positioned in Val Royeaux. The massive tower was viewable from any point in the capital of Orlais. Valora didn't recall the Spire being a friendly place, especially for the mages who lived there. When she inquired why he had residence in the Spire, with him not being a mage, he shrugged his shoulders and changed the subject.

He wanted to know about her instead—more than he already knew, at least. That gave Valora pause. There wasn't much to tell. But she obliged, telling him whatever came to mind. She told him about her life back at the alienage; how shambled and desolate it was. Most of the elves had fled the alienage after the blight, but few families returned to the wasteland they called home. Valora's family included. She told Cole about her father, who was more content to scream about justice for the alienage than actually _be_ a father. The man was angry all the time, and Valora did not trust him enough to be too close to him. He had found a way to support his family even so, and Valora could not disregard his fulfilled responsibility.

Valora smiled as she mentioned her mother. She was always gentle and kind, helping anyone that was in need, even if she was the one who was in need most. Valora recalled many times when her mother would read to her as a little girl. In the dark, her mother conjured just enough firelight in her palm to see the words on the yellowed pages. She would read until Valora fell asleep, almost every night after her father retired to bed. There was something secretive about their parent's relationship; Valora had never even seen them smile at one another. In fact, her mother frequently held fear in her eyes when she looked at her husband . . . Valora did not want to know why, but judging by the bruises and scrapes that constantly tarnished her mother's skin, she believed she already knew.

Cole visibly flinched, hearing the vague memories of screams that were repressed in Valora's mind. His heart ached. She didn't know she was hurting for her mother, still. She couldn't remember the old pains; they had been buried, bottled-up behind a strong wall of denial and drowned out by the wounds that the death of her sister left her with. Cole was not going to break that wall; he did not want her to feel the aches of the past rushing in all at once, but he still wanted to help. He frowned, knowing he was unable to heal a hurt that she was unaware of.

Valora moved on to talk about her sister. Her sister was the most radiant girl in her life. Each time Valora was upset, Anariel would be there to pick her up. There were times when Valora believed her younger sister was stronger than her, unbreakable. Ana always smiled, always gave hope to anyone she spoke to. She was positive about everything, loved everything. Valora wondered how such a forsaken place as the alienage could give a small girl so much confidence and life. The alienage was crumbled, yet Ana would always point out the bright blue flowers growing through the cracks of concrete lying on the ground. When their parents were angry with each other, screaming and thrashing about, Ana would be the one hugging Valora, trying to make her feel better. "_They'll stop being angry, Val. They just forgot they love each other. They always remember after a while," _Ana had said then, wiping Valora's tears away with a dirtied sleeve.

Cole could see it all. All it took was a mention, and he had the full picture. Valora didn't know her thoughts carried all of these memories, yet they still weighed her down. He had an urge, a silent call beckoning him to embrace her. To wash away every bad memory from her broken mind. He resisted, however, trying to focus on what she was saying rather than what her mind was harboring. He didn't want to startle her by being too close; her heart would beat quickly enough just when he looked at her.

Before she felt she had spoken all she had to say, Valora ended on a cheerful note about how she and her sister used to play dress-up with abandoned clothing the other elves had left over from the blight. _Ah, I'm rambling . . ._ Feeling as if she had spoken too much about herself, Valora asked Cole about his interests, which offered her much amusement. He talked about helping people, of course, but also about an array of different things. His particular love of rabbits and hats made Valora chuckle. She discovered that he never took his hat off, and on further inspection, if anyone tried taking it off of him, he reacted like a desperate mabari trying to wrestle back a bone from grasping hands. He liked the color green, which made the elf's face heat up when she realized he had been intensely staring into her vibrant green eyes when he'd said so. He had a friend in Solas and Inquisitor Lavellan, and he respected all of the other members of the Inquisition a great deal.

When she asked about his dislikes, however, he only offered one word: Despair. He hated the pain that rested in people's hearts, loathed the people who inflicted such feelings on others. The elf agreed with his every word, understanding his hatred for the wicked all too well. She admired his kindness. No one was like him: helping without having to think; caring deeply even for strangers who wouldn't remember who had lent them such endearing support. _You have a heart of gold, _Valora thought, and couldn't help but smile. Cole really was what Solas said he was. But speaking to Cole then, Valora realized he was much more than just Compassion.

Cole was a real person with his own complex thoughts and emotions, even if he didn't fully recognize it. He was a beautiful person on the inside, and she couldn't help but feel a flutter against her heart when the rising sun gleamed brightly across his face. _Beautiful on the outside, too . . ._ He had a look all of his own, and Valora couldn't help but admire the way his hair gently swept down over his restless crystalline eyes, trailing down his masculine neck. His cheeks were gaunt, and his skin retained a constant ghostly glow, but Valora found the mysterious phantom-like look he possessed very appealing. There was just something about his intensity that made Valora want to be closer, to know more about him. Her eyes traveled lower to rest on his slight frown, and her stomach flipped. His sulky lips looked so soft and sweet in the sun's rising glow, even if they were permanently set in an eerie scowl. She wondered exactly how those pouting lips would feel, just before she saw those lips turned up in a subtle grin.

"I'm not pouting," he had insisted. Valora's cheeks could not have flushed any faster as she realized he had been peeking into her thoughts. He tilted his head slightly at the sight of her face beginning its transition to a bright red. He wondered what he'd said to make her turn colors. Cole hadn't seemed to pay much attention to any of her other embarrassing thoughts, which relieved Valora only a little. _I need to be more careful with that, _she had thought, and then immediately sighed when she saw Cole nod in amused agreement.

Valora had never spoken to someone like she did then, uninterrupted for hours, never running out of things to talk about. She realized she had gotten carried away talking to the boy just when she noticed how high the sun had reached in the sky. She insisted that she needed to retire to her quarters for sleep, giving Cole a grateful smile before she said her farewells. He said his own goodbyes before rising to stand and roam wherever his feet would take him. It was almost unbelievable, Valora felt, that simply talking to him could remove the burdening weight from her mind and leave her feeling indefinitely lighter.

* * *

><p>She stayed awake in her room for just minutes after Cole left, thinking about all of their conversations and wishing she could have said even more. There was so much more to learn about him, but there would be plenty of time for that.<p>

Just as Valora was drifting off, there were three noisy raps at her door. She groaned loudly and forced herself up and out of her bed, which had conveniently seemed like the most comfortable furniture in existence at that moment. She reluctantly traveled over to the door, each foot dragging the ground lazily in protest, and opened it to see Solas standing there. He held two staves, one in each hand.

"Solas?" Valora wiped her eyes then gave him a questioning look. He tried to contain a smile at how grumpy she looked with her eyes squinting and her hair knotted in several different places. It was odd how only a few minutes of attempting sleep could make the girl look as if she'd been rolling around in the stables for hours. A result of all the tossing and turning, one would suspect.

"I am here for your training, lethallan. You are a part of the Inquisition now, correct? I can sense you are a mage, and there can always be use for more magic."

Valora only stared at him for a few moments, blinking several times until she could open her eyes wider. "Me? A mage? I don't know any magic," Valora stammered unconvincingly. _Maker, I'm bad at this._ Valora tried not to lie much, and she definitely wasn't fooling anyone now.

Solas let out a hearty chuckle. Why was he so amused when she made a fool of herself? He stepped back, allowing her room to exit her quarters. Apparently Valora didn't have a mabari in this fight. She sighed, raising her hood up over her head, and followed Solas out of her room.

They traveled out of Skyhold completely, not a bad idea since casting untrained spells could cause many injuries and architectural disasters. They walked for nearly half an hour before they came to an open stretch of land covered in a deep layer of snow, but lacking in any other major obstacles. This was as good a place as any for training. Valora hadn't even considered the other staff Solas had been carrying was for her until he handed it to her expectantly.

She had never held a staff before, never able to show her powers for fear the Templars would come and take her away. Her parents had always demanded her to hide her magical abilities as much as possible, which frequently led to domestic accidents with fire and, of course, the occasional migraine. Magic wasn't meant to be pent up in such a way. A few dozen singed curtains and several burn scars across her hands and arms were proof of that. Her power needed to be trained and used frequently to prevent outbursts—which is why Solas had taken her in for training so early—lest she burn down Skyhold by trying too hard to swat a fly.

Valora hesitantly took hold of the staff, gasping as it sparked to life in her hands. Solas stepped a safe distance away from the girl before giving the first order: "You must learn to control your abilities. Think of fire. Focus on your willpower, draw from it, and transfer it to the staff in your hand."

Valora took a deep breath, steeling herself. She had never willingly performed a spell, other than the night she broke free from the Venatori. Even then, it hadn't truly been something she wanted to do; she was conquered by the raw power that Wisdom had poured through her veins. She felt she needed to relieve that power then, but as she stood here, she was tired and anxious about magic. Why shouldn't she be? She had been told all her life that magic wasn't appropriate to possess, much less use.

_Fire. Think of fire. _Valora's eyes closed tightly as she struggled to build up her will, feeling the strength of her magic tingling across her fair skin. The orb—which was wedged in between two dragon carvings at the top of the etched staff—glowed dimly, flickering before steadily brightening up to produce a shining red light. Valora felt an overwhelming amount of power trickling deep within her, filling her with euphoric energy. The energy seeped through her body, racing just below her skin before she released it. With a grunt of effort, a blinding flash of blue energy burst from her body and surrounded the training grounds, heaving piles of snow up high into the air.

Solas' staff was ripped away from his hand and he shouted in surprise, his arms outstretched to maintain balance as he was shoved back several feet by the explosive willpower that Valora had managed to detonate. He was suddenly grateful he had procured a safe distance between them, or else he would have been up in the sky with the snow, which had began its descent back to the ground, caking the earth unevenly. A large pile of snow landed gracefully on Solas' head, and he stumbled about blindly before it tumbled off of him and onto the ground. Once he regained his footing and his staff, he raised his frosty eyebrows and stared at Valora incredulously.

"Spirit? You called on a spirit?"

Valora gulped and her emerald eyes widened, like a ram standing face-to-face with an archer's deadly arrow. She could hear the blatant astonishment in his deep voice and hoped he hadn't uncovered her secret. The last thing she wanted was to be accused of being an abomination, especially around all of the incredibly skilled warriors of the Inquisition.

"Is that bad?"

"No. It is just. . . What you are holding is a fire staff. Most beginners take well to fire, not being able to cast any other spell so readily, but you have somehow conjured a spirit's power. That is no easy feat for someone with little experience, such as yourself. How could you have managed to cast such an advanced spell if you have yet to control your power?"

Solas seemed to be asking a question that he already knew, carefully eyeing her as she gulped nervously once again. Something was definitely suspicious about the young elf in front of Solas. She seemed to be harboring more power than she knew how to use, and there were a limited number of explanations for this situation. _She must be . . ._

He cautiously stepped toward her and proceeded to circle around her, attempting to gather any information that her magical aura produced. There was nothing. She seemed as powerless as she looked standing there, her teeth chattering and body shivering. Whether it was from the cold or from something else, Solas could not determine.

Solas suddenly stopped in front of her once again. His face contorted into an expression of frustration, his lip curling up to bare his teeth. Valora could see the gears turning in his head, knowing what he was planning before he had the chance to act. She dropped her staff and raised her hands up in defense.

"Wait!" she screamed, but he would not hear her. In one swift movement, he raised his staff and pointed it at her, a large shard of ice erupting from the tip of the weapon and aiming straight for Valora's heart.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Thanks for the review FearaNightmare. That made my day. (: Hope you continue to enjoy this story as much as I enjoy you enjoying it.


	6. Spirit Ward

**_Author's Note: _**This chapter's name is a play on both of the themes in this section. It's hard coming up with chapter titles that don't make me want to cringe, ugh. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong><em>Chapter Six:<em>**

**_Spirit Ward_**

x

Valora was not prepared for what happened after Solas' attempted attack. She was poised with her hands up in front of her chest, guarding herself from the blow. The shard of ice bolted straight for her, faster than she could have escaped it. But just when it should have pierced through her trembling hands and punctured her panicked heart, the shot veered in a different direction. The shard ricocheted a mere inch from her palms and shot up into the sky, as if a thin wall of defense was shielding her from the oncoming attack. She let out a cry of shock as she felt the pressure against her spirit's barrier, but soon realized the missile had not touched her. She watched, amazed, as the bolt of frost fled away from her, ascending up to the heavens.

Solas struck his staff into the snow with finality, his face twisted in what resembled fury. "I knew something was odd about you, but I didn't know you were smuggling a spirit," he spat, shaking his head in disapproval. "Do you know the first thing about spirits? Do you understand the responsibility you have brought upon yourself? You must always be on your guard, lest that spirit turn into something destructive, and you with it!"

Solas was angry; that much was clear to Valora. With every syllable he stressed, her pointed ears twitched in discomfort. She growled in annoyance, puffing up to retaliate as he finished his rant. "I did it to save my life! I would have died otherwise! Do you honestly think I am foolish enough to trust just any spirit on a whim? And what was that act? You could have killed me with that mad spell flinging!" Valora roared at him. If anyone was to blame for anything, it was Solas! How could he have damn near killed her based on just a funny feeling?

Solas stomped toward her, his eyes flashing. "It is not '_spell flinging'_! And I knew it would not kill you. I could sense something within you, I just needed to know it was not a demon. I now have my answer, and you _will_ calm yourself before you get yourself hurt!"

That sounded like a threat to Valora, but when her palms started to heat up, she realized her anger had brought her hands to a blazing red flame. Eyes alight with panic, she threw herself to the ground and shoved her palms into the snow. This seemed to amuse Solas, as he forgot about his rage for a moment to chuckle at her. She glared up at him.

"How do you know for sure that it is a spirit?" Valora asked in a sharp tone, too stubborn to give up her threatening demeanor even as she was crouched non-menacingly, hands awkwardly buried in the snow.

"If it was, in fact, a demon, the '_spell flinging_' I did would have rebounded onto me. Demons will want revenge for an attempt on their . . . _lives_, so to speak. Pure spirits will only attempt to shelter their host without provoking hostility. That it did not intend to hurt anyone was a clear indication of protection, not vengeance."

"So, if it had been a demon, your spell would have rebounded onto you and turned you into a bald elf ice kabob?"

Solas glowered, his jaw clenching in irritation. "Essentially."

"And you were willing to take that chance just to see if I was an abomination. Couldn't you have just asked me nicely?" Valora then rose from snow, wiping her drenched hands on her robes, and gave Solas a scornful smirk.

"Ah, I had not thought of that. Of course, if you were possessed by a malevolent spirit, you would be quite thrilled to answer all of my questions truthfully, wouldn't you?" Solas returned the girl's satirical grin, one eyebrow raising in mock-curiosity. It seemed Valora wasn't the only one with a smart mouth.

She frowned. "Fine. Point taken." Valora turned to march back to Skyhold, leaving her dropped staff on the frosty ground for Solas to deal with. Before she could get three irate stomps through the snow, Valora felt a rough grip on her arm. She gasped as the hand pulled her back and twisted her around to face the tall elf once again. Her temper flared, eyes narrowing heatedly.

"What? Want an apology? I can go look for one if _y__ou_ can't be bothered," Valora offered sarcastically, a cold bite in her voice. Solas shook his head and let his shoulders drop, releasing her arm with a weary sigh.

"I am sorry for my disrespect. It was unnecessary. I am just worried about your predicament. Not all spirits remain the way they are when you meet them," he said, breathing another sigh. "It is easy for a spirit to become corrupted, even by their own emotions. What they see on this earth may be a gateway for them to realize a more sinister purpose." Solas paused for a moment, considering. "Do you know what spirit you met?"

"Of course, it was—"

Blank.

Her mind was completely shrouded by her spirit's luminous cloud. But what spirit was it? She paused, causing Solas to cock an eyebrow at her in mild confusion. She rubbed her temple through her hood, as if the act would help restore any memories that the spirit was concealing from her.

"I—I can't remember," she murmured tensely. _Why can't I remember?_ Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked up at Solas, eyes wandering for any answer he might provide.

He scowled. Not at Valora, but at what he knew was the spirit's doing. This spirit did not want Solas to know anything about it, and that definitely was not a good sign. _It may already be corrupted, _he thought. He silently beckoned her over to sit alongside him on the snow. He knew he needed to explain everything to her before that spirit decided to go further with its control of the girl's mind.

Their magic training lesson had instead transformed into a lesson on spirits. Solas discussed the characteristics and behaviors of spirits before and after they possess a body. He taught her anything she needed to know about each spirits' temperaments, how to keep them in check if they ever become restless. He had a great deal of knowledge, and Valora was more than happy to listen. The spirit stirred within her as she acquired new understanding, coming to life at the young elf's new wisdom. Something told Valora that this spirit wasn't just overjoyed at learning, but it was also something about this man. She realized that every time she neared him, the spirit would make itself known in some way. Whether clouding her mind or urging her to get uncomfortably closer to him, she knew these things were not her own impulses. As much as she tried calming the spirit with soothing thoughts, the being just would not back down. The spirit was acting out of line, and desired something that Solas had.

Valora would not tell him, however. She was afraid he would condemn her or inform the Inquisition to lock her up. How would he react to knowing that she could not control the spirit's hold on her? He had already blown a fuse just uncovering the truth about her and this spirit. So she just listened to him ramble on about spirits and the fade until the lowering sun was halfway behind the mountains.

* * *

><p>Her head was pounding, trying futilely to remember what she had forgotten as she trekked back to Skyhold. Solas insisted he had errands to run before returning to Skyhold, and so Valora traveled alone with nothing but the soft glow of her new staff. It was no issue to her, but she couldn't shake the paranoia slowly creeping up on her as the sun retreated behind the mountains, casting shadows on the world. She kept getting the feeling she was being watched, but each time she shone her new staff's light around her, she saw nothing. The sun was setting quickly, and the sky was running out of light to guide her way. She walked faster to her destination, feeling perturbed at the idea of being alone in a land obscured by darkness. She could hear distant rustles in the snow, more than likely made by small animals trying to find a warm place to rest. Her imagination offered her mind no such comfort, however, and instead began to conjure images that made her tremble uneasily.<p>

She didn't remember the journey from Skyhold to the training grounds being so far-off, and the longer she walked, the more anxious she became. She was becoming frightened by every small noise made around her, jumping at the sounds of the monsters her mind had created. She rotated her staff from left to right as she trudged through the snow, giving as much light to her environment as possible. The landmarks she saw became more and more unfamiliar as Valora strode, and she started doubting her sense of direction.

_Am I lost?_ _Oh, Andraste tell me I'm not lost._ She frantically tried to remember her way back to the Inquisition's headquarters, but try as she might, she had completely forgotten. All of the surroundings began to look exactly the same: trees and snow. Spinning around in panic, Valora realized that she couldn't remember which way she had even come from. The cold started to bite at her then, her robes offering little protection against the strengthening icy winds. The elf stopped in her tracks, shivering in the snow for a few unbearably long seconds, the glow of the orb on her staff slowly subsiding. _No! _ She felt it getting harder to breathe, the air around her thinning, leaving her with barely enough to take in. Her breaths became erratic as she was left in the dark, undeniably lost.

She shouted for help numerous times, but her voice was drowned out by the whipping winds of the coming storm. Valora attempted to light the staff once more, but she was out of focus, in shock with frantic breaths stabbing at her lungs. She could see her vision blur, even through the darkness, and felt her legs feebly wavering. _I'm going to die. I'm going to freeze, and then I'm going to die out here. Alone._ Hot tears formed in her panic-stricken eyes. She didn't want to die. If she died, her sister would die with her.

All over again.

"I can't—" she managed to choke out, shaking her head from side to side. She let her staff fall from her quivering fingers, a gut-wrenching sob causing her to double over. Her denial was fading; she was yielding to her fate. The weight of the world seemed to press down on her, threatening to swallow her down into the depths of darkness within her own mind. She could feel the air fading, along with every sense she possessed. She was giving herself up to the void in her mind as it called for her to relent. The black pit inside her began humming haunting melodies in her mind, drowning out her consciousness.

_Garas, falon. __Give in__ to me . . ._ Valora helplessly dropped to her knees in the freezing snow.

"Yes, you can," a kind, familiar voice reassured. Her mind returned to itself in an instant, and she could feel the void's disappointment. The world seemed to come to a stand-still, all except for a pair of delicate hands that secured themselves around hers. Suddenly Valora was lifted up off of her knees and onto her feet, shaking unsteadily. She felt the warmth of his hands leave hers as she stood, causing her to feel a sharp sense of abandonment.

"No!" She threw herself at her rescuer, hands grasping blindly for any part of him she could feel in the dark. Finding him, she clung desperately to the front of the rough patchwork leathers he wore, afraid he might fade away if she didn't hold tightly enough. She rested her head on his firm chest, trying to block out every other sense except for the feel of him; the feel of a protector. The man froze, initially confounded by the sensation of her cold fingers flexing against his clothes and her soft cheek as it pressed against his chest. It took only seconds before he started feeling the extent of her despair, evident in the way she clutched onto him. She _needed_ him. With this comprehension, he raised his arms and wrapped her up in them with conviction. His arms were strong, but she could feel the deep concern in their grip as they encircled her completely. But her panic did not relent, squeezing at her heart until she whimpered in anguish. He pulled her closer, one hand stroking her back in rhythmic movements while he brushed his fingers through her hair with the other. The girl's violent shivers were becoming easier as he continued his motions, soothing her shocked nerves. She raised to the tips her toes and nestled her face into the warm, bare flesh of his neck, sighing into the smooth skin and indulging in the warmth of the body that held her so closely. The feeling was slowly returning to her cold, numb body. She didn't remember ever being more relieved than she did in that moment; but then again, she didn't remember much at all.

"Thank you . . . Cole," she breathed jaggedly. He could hear the relief in her voice as she spoke, feel her icy lips trembling against his exposed collarbone. Every breath she took snaked along his neck, and he could feel it in his bones. He could feel the desperate need she had for him, and it sent a swarm of butterflies into his stomach. She released her death grip on the fronts of his leathers to curl her arms around his neck, closing any distance between her and his comforting heat. She pressed her body against his and felt his chest rise and fall with each deep, steady breath. She tried to follow suit, calming her fitful breathing until it matched his own. He tightened his hold protectively, resting his cheek against her frost-covered hair. In his arms, Valora felt a minor liberation from all of her sorrows that usually plagued her thoughts. She would have been content to stay like this for hours, at ease and safe.

The icy winds whipped around them, covering them with a soft layer of snow. But Valora felt none of it, only the warmth that was radiating from Cole as he sheltered her from the storm. He let her remain in his arms for as long as she needed, both staying silent through their momentous embrace. Once she regained her focus, she parted from him—if entirely reluctantly—and grasped for her staff. She willed it alight, and the first sight she saw was a frost-covered Cole, staring at her with a look of great concern. She watched his expression change once he saw the staff's mild glow on her face. His apprehensive appearance faded as it was replaced with something soft. Something she couldn't quite place. He slowly extended a hand toward Valora, offering her to take hold. She obliged, placing her palm in his, and allowed him to guide her back to Skyhold.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's Note:<em>** Omg, thank you for your review Angelic Ink. I honestly wasn't sure that last chapter would live up to how I wanted it to be, but I'm super happy that you liked it and will continue to read it. (: & I hope you liked this chapter!  
>And thank you Al'Chan24, I love that you mentioned particular things you like about this story! It made me smile like an idiot. I'm so so so glad you're liking it, and I hope you'll keep on liking it. (:<br>Your reviews give me life~

If some of you haven't, please follow/fave if you like the story; I need all the motivation I can get haha. And if you already have followed/faved, thank you. I don't know you, but I love you.

Also, if you were wondering, "Garas, falon" means "come, friend" in Elvish.


	7. An Invitation

_**Chapter Seven: **__**An Invitation**_

_Above them, a river of Light,  
>Before them the throne of Heaven, waiting,<br>Beneath their feet  
>The footprints of the Maker,<br>And all around them echoed a vast  
>Silence.<em>

_Canticle of Threnodies 8:2-3_

x

Valora lay on her bed, just waking up after a dreamless rest. She kicked away her thick cloth blankets and sat up, wiping the sleep from her eyes. The sun shone brightly through the cracks adorning the walls of her quarters, beaming down on her face and urging her out of bed. She knew she'd be visited soon, so she grabbed her robes from her bedside table and donned them quickly. As she readied herself for the day, she couldn't shake the thoughts running through her mind. The same thoughts that had been eating away at her for a while, now.

It had been several weeks since Valora's last close encounter with Cole. Since that night he found her lost in the snow, he had been distant. He would noticeably try not to look at her if he saw her roaming around Skyhold. Lately he had been avoiding her completely; she hadn't seen him around in days. Valora wondered why he was acting so strangely, treating her as nothing more than a stranger. She had even tried speaking to him in the tavern the day after the incident. She tried thanking him for that night, but he played it off as if he had helped her to simply tie her shoes.

"You needed me. I was happy to help," he had said.

"It was more than that, Cole . . . You saved my life," she had replied. He stared somewhere over her shoulder, his arms crossed, but stayed silent. That quiet disregard almost pained Valora. "How did you even find me?"

His eyes roamed up to the rafters, getting lost in their own world as he searched his memory for the answer to her question. "I followed the light. It was too bright, blinding, and then not bright enough. Calling me closer, but then . . . Fading, flickering and falling away," he replied ominously. His mouth opened again as if to say something more, but he shook his head, dismissing whatever it was. The rafters lost his attention. Instead he focused once more on a place above her shoulder, eyes refusing to look directly at her. "You were afraid of the dark, so I had to make it light again."

"Make what light? The light from my staff?" She slowly crept closer to the man, attempting to get a better look at his face. His features were incredibly difficult to discern, sheltered in shadows cast by his large hat. She wished she could lift it, take it away so she could peer into his deep, crystalline eyes. She longed to see the ghostly characteristics that pieced his mystery together and left her only wanting to see more, to know more.

Cole shifted his feet and wrung his hands together, looking oddly uncomfortable at her approach. Valora could almost swear she heard a sharp intake of breath from the boy, but that wouldn't make much sense. Why would he be so on-edge all of the sudden? She paused in her tracks as she noticed him turning his head away from her to focus on a nearby barrel.

"No." Valora could not tell whether he was answering her question, or denying her closeness. The former seemed easier for her to accept, so she continued with her inquiry.

"What? Then what was it?"

"You." She was taken aback at his sudden change of voice. He exchanged his thoughtful tone with one so deep, so compelling that Valora felt the single word pull under her skin. Forcing herself to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks, she questioned him further. It was to no avail; he simply refused to tell her what he meant by that and replied more sparingly with each fruitless attempt. It was absolutely infuriating.

Valora had given up on making an effort to hold a conversation with him since then, as he seemed more unwilling to associate with her by the second. But she couldn't help but think back on that night. She often thought about Cole. In fact, since he guided her back to her quarters, she had hardly thought of anything else.

She thought of the way it had felt to reside in his protective arms, the way they removed all worries from her mind. She thought of his hand cradling hers ever so gently, as if she might crumble with a single coarse movement. Most of all, she thought of his eyes. They were inhuman, dark and piercing, but full of hushed sentiment. The way he had looked at her before she stepped through the open door to her quarters that night weighed heavily on her mind. How could a single touch, a simple look, bring about so much warmth? So much security? Yet so much . . . longing?

He had taken her all the way up to her room, even though he knew she hadn't needed guidance once they stepped through the large gates of the stronghold. Once they reached the door to her quarters, he stopped and hesitantly let go of her hand. His palm was a warm shield around her own, and Valora felt the stinging chill of the night's air swarm around her hand once he had let go. He gave her a final moonlit glance, one that said farewell. He didn't need to say a word for her to understand; one look spoke volumes, reminding her of her imminent isolation. She sighed in disappointment at a brand new feeling of absence; she didn't want him to leave, not yet. There was _something_ tugging at Valora's mind, something missing from the night.

She felt the missing pieces all the more as she watched Cole turn around to leave, the light of the moon reflecting softly on his lean frame as he took a step away. She couldn't bear to see him fade into the darkness, leaving her alone once again. Valora averted her gaze to the door in front of her, feeling a knot forming in her stomach at all the grateful words left dangling on her tongue, unspoken.

She wanted to tell him, to thank him for everything, but she couldn't bring herself to speak. It was as if a heavy hand was clamped against her throat, robbing her of a voice. It would be easier if she had more time, like the night they'd spent on the battlements until the dawn came to greet them. These things would be much easier to say if he would just_ . . . Stay._

She shook her head at her own thoughts. There was no reason for him to stay; why would he want to? She was overthinking this whole thing. He was _only_ helping. That was his purpose as a spirit of compassion. It didn't mean anything more than that, right? It couldn't. She reached for the knob in front of her, feeling dejection in the cold steel as she twisted it, and opened the door ever so slightly.

But he had abruptly stepped in front of it, causing her arm to snap back to her side. She heard a low creak and a soft _click_ as his hand reached behind him, pressing the door closed. His broad, masculine build towered over her, and Valora felt a vulnerability that wasn't entirely unpleasant. Turning her chin up to give him a questioning look, she saw the attentiveness etched into his phantomlike features. He emanated a haunting aura, only intensified by the chilling winds flowing through the narrow space between them. An icy gust swept his hair aside, revealing two gleaming irises etched from hard stone, seemingly black in the shadows of the night. This close, she could see his eyes holding a stunning rush of warmth, making her heart turn flips in her chest. Immediately her quizzical expression vanished and was replaced with an air of wonder, her eyes widening and glinting in the shade he cast upon her small, elven frame. The way he peered into her sent a wave of electricity down her spine, a hushed blare of excitement through her ears.

He had entranced her with a gaze like no other: a fervent stare that seemed to reach into her very soul with its hard intensity. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. She felt as if she was nailed to the spot, his haunted expression holding her there by sheer will. The shadows clung over every contour of his ghostlike face, bringing forth a treacherously appealing expression; a deadly mystery that Valora only yearned to understand. His murky eyes were penetrating, seeking something in her own. They darted between each of her verdant orbs, searching for answers to several silent questions. Valora didn't know what he was looking for, but she had gazed back into those deep shades of blue, hoping desperately he would find whatever it was he sought. . . Hoping he might seek even more.

They never said a word as they stood there together, gazes intertwined in a powerful moment of unspoken deliberation. Her long, red-tinted hair became restless in the wind, sweeping around her face to carry softly on the current. Cole gingerly lifted a hand to her face, pausing mere inches from her reddened cheek, unsure of exactly what he was doing.

Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions she dared not break the silence with. He seemed to feel the same. His lips parted, wanted to say something, but his head was swarming with thoughts that would make little sense if spoken aloud. One word, it seemed, could destroy the fragile connection they felt surging between them. One word, and the moment might disappear. She felt as if they might stand there forever, silently enveloping each other's minds, but he finally broke eye-contact. With a blink, his eyebrows furrowed and his hand recoiled, gaze taking purchase on the ground.

She wouldn't forget it, the last time he had looked her in the eyes. He turned—a greatly troubled look overtaking his features before the large brim of his hat curved to cover the mask of confusion—and opened her door for her. Her curious eyes followed him as he stepped aside, allowing her to hesitantly walk in. She strode inside without a word, but suddenly the pressure on her throat was lifted, and her mind changed. It couldn't be left like that. The elf spun around, ready to speak—to bombard Cole with questions—but the man had vanished into the night, just like the phantom he was. It was too late; she would have to deal without having the answers, it seemed. Silently cursing herself for her own hesitation, she closed the door.

What had that been? Valora couldn't begin to understand what was going through his mind in those moments, but perhaps he saw what was going through hers. Maybe that's why he had to practically force himself to look away from her that night, nearly two months ago. Maybe her thoughts had been interesting to him. Or were her thoughts the reason he was avoiding her? But, being a spirit, did he understand those thoughts? Then again, being sheltered in the alienage every day of her life, did _she_ understand?

Now she was left with so many unanswered questions, so many unfulfilled wishes that she shouldn't even have. He was a spirit, a being of the Fade, and she was an elf. He probably didn't even know what her feelings meant, and she wasn't completely sure either. It shouldn't, _couldn't _mean anything . . . But no matter how much she tried to convince herself, her emotions were hanging on to a thread of hope that maybe, just maybe, it _had_ meant something. She sighed, raising a hand to press against her forehead. _Maker, I'm a mess_.

Other than her restless thoughts of the spirit boy over the past couple of months, she had been pretty entertained with other members of the Inquisition. Varric had taught her to play Wicked Grace, and she had become quite a threat during their weekly game sessions at the tavern. The dwarf noticed Valora had quite the temper, snapping at anyone when they had a better hand than she. Every competitor found her behavior quite entertaining, though the young elf was truly infuriated when she began to lose. This earned her the nickname "Gingersnap," much to Valora's displeasure. She had won many royals and trinkets that were now littered around her spacious room, acting as decorations and reminders of triumph. She couldn't hope to win against Josephine, however. The one time the elf had bet against her, Valora left the tavern without her shoes. She knew better than Commander Cullen, it appeared. That stubborn man would bet on his skin if he could take it off.

She had also learned a very complex board game from Dorian. She didn't like it as much as Wicked Grace; there were too many rules. Not to mention the Tevinter managed to trump her at every single game they played. He would land each winning move with a flourish, a boast Valora forced herself to overlook; she did not admire his superiority complex, even though she unknowingly had one of her own.

Valora found that he was a sweet man under all of the grandeur he regarded himself with. She enjoyed visiting his area of Skyhold the most, probably due to the fact it was surrounded by books she'd never had the chance to study. And she didn't even have to "borrow" them like she'd had to do at the alienage. She could just walk up and grab one, instead of sneaking into someone's house while they weren't home just to snatch a book and return it later with no one the wiser. She and Dorian would often discuss the knowledge from the books they'd read, and he would be the one to come to for recommendations when she had an itch for a new read.

Valora seemed to get along well with everyone she'd met; all except Sera. The blonde elf had a knack for insulting people, especially her _own_ people. Valora didn't understand it at all. Sera had called her elfy. _Elfy_. What did that even mean? Sera was absolutely maddening to Valora with her loud speaking and her unintelligible slurs. Not to mention her obnoxious gassy mishaps and the fact that anywhere she went, somehow there were always one or two bees left in her wake.

Just a couple of days before, Valora had awoken to find grape jam tangled in her hair. Believing she had been knocked over the head and that the jam was blood, she let out a shriek of terror. The laughter trailing up from below her room stopped Valora's panic; it was Sera. The Inquisitor had warned her of Sera's flair for pranks, but didn't expect the blonde elf to bother her if she kept her distance. She was wrong. Now, every night before she went to bed, she would prop a stray board up against the closed door. If Sera was up for a late night visit, Valora would be alerted with the loud bang of the wood hitting the floor.

Valora was jerked from her reminisces. She had just finished donning her cloak when there was a sudden knock at her door. Solas, no doubt. She wasn't looking forward to traveling out in the snow for the fourth day in a row, but it was inevitable. He had mentioned their training would continue five consecutive days a week until she was as good with magic as he. _As if, _she thought doubtfully. She had become quite a decent spell caster, learning quickly with the aid of her sharp mind and spirit. That didn't mean she enjoyed waking up as soon as the sun peeked over the mountains, or traipsing through the snow in a flimsy robe and heavy cloak. She rolled her eyes, strolling to the door once more to answer the elf's increasingly annoying summons.

x

Their training had went exceptionally well for Valora being distracted the whole time. Other than basic, miniscule fireballs, she had managed a few powerful frost shards, conjured a steady barrier, deflected a few spells, and even managed to fry Solas' robes with a lightning bolt. She was particularly proud of the latter. She had never managed to get a hit on him before.

He had danced like a fool trying to swat away the smoke billowing from his clothing, much to Valora's amusement. She had a chance to chuckle at him for once, but there was something tugging her laughter back, refusing to let her enjoy the entertainment to its full extent. Those thoughts that left her feeling incomplete.

Cole was going through her mind the whole time, as he was every day since even their first encounter. She kept asking herself the same questions: _Will he ever talk to me again? Does he hate me? Was it something I did? Or something I didn't do? I wonder what he's doing right—no. This is getting out of hand. I need to stop. Whatever it was, if it was anything, it's over now._

She had grimaced, a sense of dread kicking her at the last thought. The thought diverted her mind from the task at hand, so much that she almost didn't block the blue flames Solas had sent flying at her, scorching a small section of her palm by trying to deflect with her hands. She shook it off, however, and cooled the burn with snow as she had grown accustomed to doing over the weeks. _Oh well. Another to add to the collection._

After training, they traveled back to Skyhold. Solas appraised her for her vast improvement. She was noticeably growing more powerful with each day, a fact that Solas said frightened him. Valora could understand the tone in his voice; he was only jesting with her. But she had silently prided herself. She _wanted_ to be feared. She wanted to be worse than any nightmare that had ever haunted her; more powerful than any beast that may ever wish to threaten her. She desired the power to overcome even the world if it were to turn its back_._

Upon reaching the end of the bridge to the stronghold, Valora noticed a group of people bunched by the first welcoming set of stairs, evidently in some sort of argument judging by the heated looks on each of their faces. She had no trouble hearing them as they quarreled, voices raising in cross persuasion.

"We do not know what she may be capable of! She could become an abomination for all we know. Perhaps it is better we find the solution before things get out of hand," a short-haired woman wearing heavy battle armor declared. Valora didn't like the way she emphasized the word 'solution' as if there was a hidden meaning. She didn't really like any of the words that the woman spoke; they were much too harsh, spoken with malice.

"She's only a girl, Cassandra. We can't just leave her locked in this place forever, do you know how maddening it is? We will have everything under control. And no! We need no _solution._ Chances are, she's just as harmless as the young man with the hat. What's his name again?" a red-haired woman said.

"Leliana is right. I really want her to accompany us; she seems bored out of her wits here. This is one mission that doesn't seem as cutthroat as all the rest. It'll do her good. She has become very talented with her magic; there should be nothing to worry about. This is something she might even enjoy! All she has to do is stand around and listen to the nobles gossip about each other. She is part of the Inquisition after all; it's about time we started treating her as such," Inquisitor Lavellan proposed.

"No, no, no, none of this will work. She must be supervised at all times. We cannot let her out of our sights! You heard Solas; the girl may be in danger. Maker knows all of Orlais will be in danger if she falls prey to that demon while we're investigating! She'd be doing Corypheus' work for him," Cullen stated firmly.

Valora neared them slowly. They had yet to notice her in the heat of their debate, but she had heard nearly all of what they said. It was difficult not to, considering the high tone in which they quarreled. Apparently the louder you were, the more potent your argument really was._ Solas told them about the spirit? They thinks it's a demon? And what's this about nobles? Oh, I've got to hear this._

"Hello," she said, feigning ignorance. The young elf managed to startle everyone in the group with her untimely arrival. The Inquisitor quickly regained composure, though it was visibly superficial. She waved her glowing palm nervously at the young elf.

"Oh, er, Valora. Fancy seeing you here," Lavellan said, an apprehensive expression covering her dark, tattooed face.

"Inquisitor . . . I live here."

"Uhhh, right! But you haven't met Cassandra! This is Cassandra!" Lavellan gave a rough pat to Cassandra's back. She was overdoing the casual act, earning a disgusted noise from the woman in question. Valora smiled awkwardly and spoke greetings to the silent woman with short, dark hair and a notable scar on her cheek. It wasn't exactly hard to tell that this woman did not trust Valora. She had an icy demeanor and stared at the elf with stoic eyes. This was the same woman from the outside of the infirmary; the one chopping angrily at a training dummy as if it had given her an unforgivable insult. She looked dangerous and increasingly annoyed at Lavellan's antics.

The red-haired woman turned to the elf and smiled. "Leliana, spymaster of the Inquisition. You must be the fairly new girl everyone has been making a big fuss about. The one with the . . . extra passenger." Leliana gave a sly smile, one that let Valora know she was not perturbed with the fact that the elf may be an abomination. Her introduction was a bit too straightforward for Lavellan's taste, however. The Dalish elf stared at the spymaster in disbelief, arms dangling at her sides with her mouth slightly agape.

"Valora Levisan, Nice to meet you. And believe me, I've heard the fuss," the elf stated irritably, eyes glancing over the Inquisitor and her advisors. They all took on different guilty poses, lowering their eyes to the ground or shuffling their feet awkwardly. All except for Cassandra, whose pose seemed more threatening than anything. The woman's eyes were dark and treacherous as she scanned the girl from head to toe. She imagined Cassandra was determining all of her weak points in case she ever had need to take advantage of them. It made Valora more than a little uncomfortable.

"We were actually just talking about you coming with us—"

"Inquisitor, don't," the Commander cut in, swiping his hand to the side as if her sentence was a tangible thing he could push away with a gesture.

"Hush, Cullen. We were wondering if you'd like to accompany us to a ball at the Winter Palace in Halamshiral. Tomorrow we'll prepare, and we leave immediately the following evening," the Inquisitor finished, grinning defiantly at her irritated blonde advisor. Cassandra shook her head in disapproval and sauntered away with a gait so rigid that Valora was sure the woman was holding back every ounce of fury she contained. Cullen soon followed after giving the Inquisitor a sneer, not bothering to glance in Valora's direction. This made the elf feel incredibly small, but in the same moment she felt an air of importance as Lavellan looked upon her in tense expectation.

Valora opened her mouth to speak, but had no idea what to say. _A ball? Halamshiral? Two days?_ It was obvious to say that Valora had never had the chance to attend a ball, much less in Orlais. Those were for the rich, condescending nobles who hid their insecurities with too much makeup under their ridiculous Orlesian masks. They would jump at the opportunity to trample an elf like her. But she would be lying if she said she wasn't a little interested in dressing up and eavesdropping on the nobles while they metaphorically slaughter each other. Plus, didn't the nobility alway offer free food at social events? No matter how disgusting it all may be, that settled it.

"I would love to," Valora stated definitely.

* * *

><p>Cole paced back and forth on the upper level of the tavern. He had been like that for weeks, much to everyone's annoyance. When the night came and the tavern closed, the residents would lay down for sleep. But constantly hearing the <em>tap, tap, tap<em> of feet as they shuffled along the floor was starting to get out of hand. The Iron Bull had a talk with him once, but it seemed Cole didn't quite understand what Bull meant by "finding someone to keep his feet off the floor at night." How was he supposed to walk with someone lifting his feet? In addition, Sera had thrown pillows at him a few times, which he promptly returned and explained why he had no need for them.

Finally the barkeeper screamed at him to stop walking all hours of the night, keeping everyone awake. This command Cole understood. He had stopped pacing in the tavern during the nights, allowing everyone a peaceful sleep. When the moon streaked across the sky, he took to the battlements or the open fields in front of Skyhold's immense tower. But when the tavern was buzzing around midday, so was he.

It wasn't like he paced the sunlight away; he would often search for people who needed his help. He would spend much of his time assisting the nurse in Skyhold's infirmary. She was always in need of ingredients for new remedies, and there were always wounded soldiers who needed patching up. It was the best way to take his mind off of the conflicts he felt nagging deep within himself. The distraction was much needed. During the night, however, most people were at peace, leaving him with no release from his foreign emotions. They were frightening, as he had never experienced his feelings so vividly. It was always other people's afflictions that he heard singing songs of sorrow in his head. Never his own. But now it seemed as if his own songs had become louder, drowning out the din of despair from others. It wasn't right.

He paced to one wall, then turned around and strode to the opposite wall, avoiding the floor's broken planks that threatened to trip their unsuspecting prey. The clinking of glasses and the merriment of men and women below were all but masked by the thoughts whirling about in his head. He had his arms folded across his chest, his eyebrows knit in an expression just as confused as it was almost two months ago when he had returned Valora to her quarters after rescuing her from the darkness.

He had heard a voice—her voice—telling him not to leave, but then it was gone. He delved into her eyes that night, hoping her thoughts would return and tell him not to go, any reason for him to stay with her. He didn't know why he wanted to. He was confused. _Why?_ He would frequently question himself on the matter, but he could never find the answer. He enjoyed his friends being around in Skyhold, but he had no particular interest in sticking around them for too long; they all started to get boring. But she didn't.

This was even different than his friend back at the White Spire. He had wanted Rhys around to not feel so alone; to protect Rhys from dangers because he was the only one he truly had. Rhys was the only one who could see him at first, the only who could make him real. He still missed Rhys, more than anything, but it was unlike how he felt now. He wasn't alone, yet he still did not want to be too far from Valora—not even for a second. What was it supposed to mean? Wanting someone without needing them? It wasn't like him.

He had tried to stay away from her despite his growing attachment, afraid and unsure of what he was feeling. Every time he saw the pretty elf, his heart would give a great punch to his ribs. The butterflies in his stomach would flutter their iron wings until it was almost painful. He decided not to look at her anymore; the feeling was unnatural, uncomfortable. He didn't have the words for this. _How do I say it? _He shook his head in frustration.

He enjoyed being around her, even through the unsettling ache she forced into his stomach. When he saw her, she radiated a beautiful light that was hard to take his gaze off of. He liked her voice, the way she would softly sing when she thought no one else was around. She was gentle and endearing; she could never be like those people who made others hurt. But there was one thing he liked about her that he couldn't find in anyone else: the way she looked at him.

He could still picture the soft, emerald gaze she held him with. Her eyes sparkled when she saw him, as if he could be something of immeasurable value to her. He remembered how she had clung to him, as if he was the gravity keeping her feet steady on the ground. In those moments they were together, she made him feel important, like he truly belonged in this world. Her gaze was no exception. Others had looked at him as a friend, but she wasn't like that. Her breath always slowed or stopped when she looked at him, but her heart didn't.

He could almost hear the rapid thumping against her chest as he had stood in front of her that night, could almost see the way the shining copper of her hair swept delicately to caress her face in the strong winds. She'd left her hood down, a gesture that told him she felt vulnerable, yet was unafraid to let it show. He wished she would do that more often. Once he'd made sure she could safely return to her quarters, he turned to leave. It would have been much easier if the voice hadn't gripped him, drawing him back to where she was. She'd tried to open her door to part ways with him, but he heard something entirely different.

_Stay_, her mind whispered. It seized his attention, and he acted on impulse. He stepped in front of the door and investigated the depths of her eyes, trying to pry into her mind to find that small voice again. As they locked gazes, he could feel a slight need radiating from her—different from anything anyone had ever felt for him. He could not understand it. Her senses were a blare in his ears, but her thoughts were silent. He could sense that need—that imprecise plea—escalating as he came closer. Was that an invitation, or an uncomfortable rejection? He couldn't tell, couldn't hear over the sound of himself.

Cole's pacing quickened, and he pressed his fingers to his brow in contemplation. He didn't understand what she wanted. Only Solas was ever able to block him out, but now every time he neared Valora, she would grow quiet, too. His own thoughts were too loud to hear hers, too overwhelming to beat back down. Since he had learned what he was, he had built on his power to read other people, but it seemed he was reverting, receding to reality when he was with her. When he couldn't hear others, the world felt unbearably finite. Was that how humans felt?

How was he supposed to know what to do to make her happy? To know what she needed from him? He didn't want to confront her; he was afraid she would be angry with him for not knowing what she wanted. He had always been able to help, but he couldn't help her if he couldn't hear her. His whole purpose was defied in her midst, but he still had the unbearable longing to be close to her, to hear her voice again.

_I have to make her know. _He gasped at his sudden thought, freezing in his tracks. The thought intrigued him as much as it terrified him. He wondered how she would react, yet stressed over the possibility she might dismiss his feelings. No one had ever really taken his feelings seriously; the Inquisitor and Solas treated him like a child who needed guidance through all things. Varric let him do things his way, but not without a long sigh or a correction if things were done the wrong way. Sera wouldn't even address him as a person, and The Iron Bull wanted things for Cole that the boy didn't really want at all.

For once, he just wanted someone to understand. Not push him in a direction he didn't want to go. Not tell him he's mistaken, that he doesn't know what he's doing. He wanted someone to listen, recognize that he is more than just some misplaced spirit in a world too advanced for his existence. He wanted someone to make him _know_ he belongs in this world. He didn't want to feel like he wasn't a person. Not anymore. He wanted someone to let him know that he was _real,_ that he could make his own decisions. Maybe that's why he couldn't shake the feelings he felt when he thought about his elven friend. Valora had made him feel more real than anything else. More real than his mistakes.

His mistakes . . . The mages' lives he had ended in the Spire. None of their eyes had held the level of attention Valora's emerald stare had. She didn't see him as a ghost; she saw him as a human, a hero. As real as anyone else, but better. He closed his eyes, picturing the enthralled way she had always looked at him. His heart leapt. The mages saw him as a release from the world's bindings, and somehow Valora saw him in a way even larger than that.

At the White Spire, he had demanded the mages to look him in the eyes while he killed them. As he thrust his dagger into their still-beating hearts, he had reveled in the recognition in their gaze. They knew him then as the most important thing in the world. In those precious seconds before death, the mages recognized him as their only release; he was the only one separating them from a life of torture or Tranquility. He held their lives in his hands, and he loved knowing that he mattered to them. That made him feel real . . . Until his friend, Rhys, made him know better.

There were other ways to help people. Not just to kill them. Helping people, Cole realized, made him just as important to the hopeless. No lives needed to be lost for him to feel real, even for a short time. It didn't matter whether they remembered him or not. They would feel better, and that is what mattered to him. Knowing he made a real difference . . . That was the important thing.

But there was a difference between the way he felt when he helped people and the way the elven girl made him feel. He didn't need to help her for her to make him feel tangible. Just a look, just a whisper; that was all he needed from her to know he was significant. To know he was worth more than just being some easily overlooked helping hand.

Even her thoughts about him before he had been repelled from her mind made him feel alive in a brand new sense. She had thoughts of him the likes of which no one else ever dared. Others either didn't see him, were in too much pain to notice, or were intimidated by his ghostly presence. She was undeterred, admiring him with a vitality that made him feel content in his own skin. He didn't understand why she thought these things; those kinds of thoughts weren't for someone like him.

Sometimes she forgot he was a spirit. She had contemplated what kissing him would be like. A _few_ times. But every time she realized what she was thinking, she distracted herself with nature. The trees, flowers, rocks, or birds soaring overhead suddenly became the most interesting things to Valora when she had let her mind slip in such an uncouth way. This didn't seem unnatural to Cole at first; many people tried not to think about their basic urges when they knew they couldn't have them. It was often painful for people to long for things far out of their reach. But he could do nothing about people's affections for each other. He could, however, do something about Valora's attraction.

_What?_ He hadn't thought much about the basis of her urges in the beginning. They had been brief each time they came to mind, and they weren't desperate enough to take note of . . . until he brought her back to her room that night. When he came closer to her, her desire flared. In that moment, he realized her urges were contagious, becoming his own. But he was too nervous to act on them, too confused at what it might mean. And so was she. He could feel the longing, but there was panic there, too. The apprehension settled in both of them until he forced himself to turn away, ending their internal debate. He couldn't make that happen.

He had never wanted that, not from anyone, not ever! He needed to focus on what other people needed, not himself. But the wanting, the wishing, it was welling inside her, boiling over until it spilled into him as well. Was this a need of his own? But, don't worldly yearnings often lead people to make bad decisions; to corrupt? Was he becoming selfish like the people he swore to eliminate? His unjustifiable impulses horrified him.

Horrified him almost as much as the loud exclamation that came from the Inquisitor as she jerked him away from his thoughts, causing his cloudy eyes to shoot open in surprise.

"Cole! There you are! I have something for you to do," she exclaimed, practically frolicking towards him across the tavern like an excited little child. She stopped mere inches in front of him, panting with fatigue. He leaned away from her, lips curving down in discontent at his lack of personal space.

"You know that thing you do where no one can see you? We need you to do that, but at the Winter Palace. In two days. You need to spy on the nobles. For . . . For the people!"

Cole narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "I . . . can. But how does that help people?"

"Great! And you're going to need to wear these," Inquisitor Lavellan yelped, ignoring his question completely. She handed a bundle of red, blue, and gold clothes to him. His eyebrows knitted together as he grabbed them from her, unfolding them to analyze the regality the suit encompassed.

"Can I—"

"No hats, Cole."

Cole groaned, dissatisfied, but set the clothes on top of a barrel for future wear. He had no interest in spying on fancy people, but if it helped, he was more than willing. The Inquisitor departed after patting Cole on the top of his hat. He didn't know why she always did that, but he appreciated the gesture. After a few minutes of solitude, he left the tavern to help the nurse tend to the infirmary.

* * *

><p><strong><em> Author's Note: Important!<em>**

I've made dramatic changes to chapter one and two and I plan on making more tweaks here and there, so if some things start to not make sense to you, it's because I've altered the past. I do recommend reading back over chapter one, at least after the part where she merges with the spirit. A lot is different, and I did it for a reason.

LadyStoic, thanks so much for your reviews! I love feedback, and you covered like, every chapter. My heart stopped when I saw I had 5 new reviews, so I deeply appreciate it. Glad you're liking it, and hope you continue to like it (:

Syrilth, thank you for your review! It made me smile like an idiot. It's good to know that people actually enjoy something that I've made. And that review was very sweet, I hope you continue enjoying this story. (:

SinistrousDelirious, nice name. :p Thanks for your review, glad I could catch your interest! Hope you'll like the rest of the story. Oh, and of course. We can't have a Colemance without it being the cutest, mushiest thing ever. That'd just be a waste. (;

To everyone who has favorited, reviewed, and followed: You encourage me to keep on writing. Without you, I'd feel no reason to carry on. You all inspire me, and I want to let you know that you mean a lot to me! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter & I'll try to keep your attention throughout the rest of them. Have a great day! (:


	8. Fuel

_**Chapter Eight: Fuel**_

_Sitting silent in a daze_  
><em>A life alone, it never pays<em>  
><em>All behind and nothing here<em>  
><em>Hiding all the pain and fear<em>  
><em>Crawling slowly back to you<em>  
><em>Eyes of green meet eyes of blue<em>

_Troubled words meet nervous ears_  
><em>Fighting through the hurt and tears<em>  
><em>Finding peace back in your arms<em>  
><em>Giving in to all your charms<em>  
><em>Crawling slowly back to you<em>  
><em>Eyes of green meet eyes of blue<em>

_Eyes of Green Meet Eyes of Blue - Sean Hart_

x

Valora dressed so quickly she almost pulled her robes on backwards. The Inquisitor had informed Valora to meet her in the grand hall that morning in preparation for the ball, but the girl had been so excited that she easily woke up to the soft light of dawn peeking through the small cracks in the ceiling of her quarters.

Her measurements had been taken the day of her invitation, and the greatest of Antivan tailors had been sewing up an outfit to fit her slim, elven frame. Despite how uncomfortable it had been to stand in front of a prissy man by the name of Alfonso in nothing but her smallclothes, the elf was eager to see the dress he had sewn up for her.

She pranced out of her room, taking the tavern's top floor door as a shortcut to the grassy lower level of the stronghold. The slight chill of the air was all but ignored as the elf hurried up the castle stairs, skipping every other one in her eager haste. A plethora of impatient thoughts rushed through her head as she neared the entrance of Skyhold's main hall.

The hall was bustling with people, all speaking as loudly as they could to be heard over everyone else's chatter. From what Valora make out through the people's overriding voices, there was to be an execution later that morning. Everyone seemed excited to witness the beheading of one Alexius, which sickened Valora. How could so many people crave bloodshed? No matter the crime, it was horrific to imagine so many people could actually _enjoy_ watching the mutilation of a fellow man.

A pain bit at her mind at the thought; there seemed to be something she was forgetting, although it wasn't an unfamiliar feeling. Lately, she had grown accustomed to the ache in her head as it tried to remember events that had happened directly prior to her arrival at Skyhold. She couldn't remember why she'd been covered in ashes when the scouts found her, or why she felt sick each time she saw the high flames of the fireplace in the tavern. Bits and pieces of an unrecognizable time littered her mind: a bright hand outstretched to her, black flames flickering in the palms of her hands, wide, horrified eyes pleading for death . . .

The people's voices were abruptly intensified, ripping her from her train of thought and back to the moment. She cringed at all the noise, but perked up as she saw the Inquisitor seated comfortably upon her dragon maw throne at the other end of the crowded hall. The woman must have been waiting for the call to put Alexius to death, although she looked incredibly relaxed for someone who was mere minutes away from spilling blood in front of a heartless audience. The practice was appalling, but one the Inquisitor must have been forced to grow accustomed to.

The young elf pushed past a multitude of people, muttering apologies under her breath as each individual gave her a curt look of disapproval. During her stay, she had grown accustomed to these humans, realizing that they were no more a threat than anything else; though they did have a bad habit of spreading gossip to every ear that would listen.

Nearing the throne, she noticed the Inquisitor was speaking with Solas. The Dalish elf giggled as Solas finished a particularly lengthy story that Valora didn't have the chance to pick up on. She noticed how Lavellan's bright eyes looked upon the man softly, her smile warm with interest. Solas held a similar expression, grinning over at the Dalish elf. Valora could almost see the strings connecting their gaze as they shared a moment of intimate silence. _Oh?_

Lavellan's eyes shifted to Valora as she stood silently before them, and she cleared her throat awkwardly as she realized she was being observed. "Ah, Valora. You're here early," the Inquisitor declared, a nerve causing her voice to waver. She rose from her throne, the light shining through the window behind her making her look almost like a benevolent goddess as she descended the steps before her. Valora couldn't help but be reminded of the statues of Andraste lined along the two long walls of Skyhold's great hall. She felt the twinge of a jealous knot forming in her stomach.

"Follow me, lethallan," the woman chirped before weaving her way through the crowd. Valora dared a quick look at Solas, who had a somewhat disenchanted expression on his face as he watched Lavellan walk away.

"Sorry," Valora mouthed before turning and hurrying after the Inquisitor through the waves of people in the hall.

They took the second door on the right; the same door Valora had used to find the war room on her first day at Skyhold. Inquisitor Lavellan guided her to the antechamber containing a simple desk in the corner, but instead of it being vacant like before, the ambassador was stretched across it, hovering over several papers.

"Josie! We need her outfit for the ball tonight," Lavellan announced noisily, causing a startled Josephine to scatter the papers ungracefully onto the floor. Staring at the fluttering mess, she let out a long sigh, which blew a black curl away from her charmingly dark complexion. Her shoulders were tensed in annoyance, but she visibly bit back the urge to show the extent of her frustration. Valora guessed by the amount of patience the woman controlled that she had grown accustomed to the Inquisitor's quirky disturbances over the months.

Josephine raised her head to give a weary look at the two as they made their way to her desk. Valora stepped up to the ambassador's table, bending down to collect the strewn parchment from the ground. With strands of her hair escaping the messy bun on her head and with the heavy bags under her eyes, the woman looked like she could use the help—and a vacation.

"Thank you." Josephine took the papers from Valora's hand and placed them on her desk, not troubling herself to organize them. She composed herself then, her stress-filled mope quickly replaced with a lovely smile that could capture the heart of any man. "Outfit, you say? Alfonso should have it ready by now. Stay put, I'll return in a moment." The ambassador stood from her chair and hastily exited the room, leaving Valora to wonder why the woman was always in such a rush.

It was getting oddly quiet in Josephine's study as the two elves stood waiting, so Valora decided to break with silence with something that had been curiously floating around in her mind.

"So . . . You and Solas, huh?" Valora chuckled at Lavellan's expression of embarrassment at the shameless blatancy of her question. She could almost hear the Inquisitor's blood as it rushed to her cheeks, but her suntanned face could reveal no hint of a blush. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she could manage an intelligible word.

"I don't know what you're talking about! I mean we—we're not. Well, we're friends, but—I, uh." Lavellan fiddled nervously with a button on her casual attire, eyes looking everywhere except at the girl she was addressing. There was no denying it; Valora knew the Inquisitor fancied Solas, and this brought a touched smile to her face.

"Inquisitor, it's sweet. You really shouldn't hide it. I see the way he watches you; it's obvious he likes you, too," Valora confessed, watching Lavellan's caramel eyes brighten. The young elf was a sucker for the few romance novels she'd stumbled upon in Skyhold's immense library. If there was a chance for love to blossom between the two, she didn't want Lavellan's opportunity to escape her so easily. Like the Guard Captain in Varric's story, the Inquisitor needed to take charge; she needed to tell Solas what was on her heart before the 'ass end of life catches her by the brawny heel,' or something like that. Varric was very . . . poetic with his metaphors.

"I think you should talk to him."

The Dalish elf grinned from ear to ear, eyes alight with hope. "I—I will, if you're sure."

"Completely."

There were a few moments of content silence before Lavellan spoke again, rupturing the peace in the atmosphere.

"I think _you_ should talk to Cole; I can tell you're both distraught. I see the doe eyes you give when you look up at him during Wicked Grace. And it's no secret to anyone how far he leans over the railing to get a good look at you," Lavellan said, giving Valora a playful nudge with her elbow. The girl's jaw dropped, and if her eyes could open any wider, they might have popped from her head. She could feel her stomach flip at the mention of the boy that she was trying desperately not to think so much about. Thinking of him only encouraged feelings within her that she knew couldn't be reciprocated, and the fact that he had his eyes on her only gave her a thrill she knew to be foolish. However, there was one thing bothering her about the Inquisitor's statement. _He hasn't been around in a long time, that can't be right._

_"_What do you mean? I never see him when I look up—oh!" In an instant, Valora was hit hard with the truth of what had been happening over the last few weeks: Cole had been hiding himself from her while still keeping a close eye on her. It was the only explanation, and it hurt about as much as it flattered_. So _that's_ why he's been out of sight lately._ It wasn't because he was avoiding her; it was because he was shrouding himself from her with his strange ability. Though, despite his disappearance, he had still been watching her. The eyes she always felt on her, they were far from just her imagination. He was there. _But why?_

Before her mind could have the chance to piece together a plausible answer, Josephine stepped through the door. She was accompanied by a middle-aged man in a purple, puffy suit almost as ridiculous as Josephine's own. Valora didn't dare voice that opinion, however. If the man caught wind of her distaste, he might just be compelled to sass her to death.

"You remember Alfonso, one of our most skilled Antivan tailors. He will take you to the embroidery department to make sure your clothes are fit to perfection," she explained. Alfonso harrumphed—probably at being called "one" of the most skilled, Valora estimated. Josephine and Alfonso walked with a similar elegant gait as they approached. Alfonso scrutinized the elf as he neared, just the way he had done when he took her measurements only two days before. Valora fidgeted nervously, feeling just as exposed as she was then—robeless with scars and dusty freckles littered about her fair skin. She detested the critic's gaze; just a glance from the man was enough to make her feel entirely inadequate.

He waved a hand carelessly through the air, beckoning her to follow. She trailed behind as he led her out of the castle, across the fields of grass, and to a door built into the side of the stony foundation. He stood just outside the door, an expectant look across his dark complexion. Valora quickly caught on. The elf rolled her eyes at the man and opened the door for him, allowing him to gracefully enter the room before she stepped in behind him.

"Wow!" Valora's eyes sparkled with childlike wonder as she walked through the crowded room, gaping at all of the dresses and suits lining the walls of the department. Several mannequins were compacted into the room, as well as desks covered in sewing utensils and half-stitched gowns. She beamed up at a particular gown, an elegant light-blue dress that reminded her of the boundless sky. She had always loved looking up at the sky; it echoed stories of immortality in her mind. The skies were infinite, and she wished she knew what lie beyond that eternal span of blue. The dress's color and regality encompassed a piece of her that she could not identify—the small crystals sewn around the neckline reminding her of an undisclosed vivacity within herself.

"Ah, I see you've taken a liking to this one," the man chimed, waking Valora from her daydream. She nodded excitedly, turning to the tailor in hopes that this was the dress he had prepared for her. He smiled in pseudo-sympathy, and then handed her a neatly folded red suit. Valora narrowed her eyes down at the piece in his hand, confused. When she didn't make a move to retrieve the garment, he scoffed.

He gestured to the gown, his face twisted in pompous amusement. "Ha! You think you're special enough to dress like _that_ to the Winter Palace? You have to _be_ a somebody to _look_ like a somebody! And why would I waste my talent on that for someone like you? You're just some knife-ear—might as well be a servant."

With that, he shoved the red suit toward her once again. His patronizing speech belittled Valora, and she hunched her shoulders meagerly. She felt hundreds of insecurities whirl around her like a storm of angry winds, tossing her about in a hurricane of demeaning thoughts. "I—I'm sorry."

_I am foolish . . . _She secured her hood tightly around her ears, pressing them down as if the pressure could shrink them down to a normal size, a _human_ size—one that would make her acceptable. With a wavering frown, she grabbed the suit from Alfonso and left without testing the fit, returning to her quarters.

* * *

><p>She lay in her bed for hours, darkness pooling around her like a toppled vial of ink. Valora wasn't surprised to find that there was no light filtering through the cracks in her ceiling; the sun was descending, covered by clouds of grey, and it made her feel just as veiled to the world. She felt so small, so overlooked, so insignificant.<p>

_You're just some knife-ear._ The tailor's words ran through her mind on repeat, reminding her of what little meaning her life held for everyone. _Might as well be a servant!_ His voice amplified tenfold in her mind, screaming at her endlessly. _But servants have a purpose. I am no one . . . I'll never be anyone. _A thousand different anxieties circled her like vultures gyrating a rotten, lifeless meal.

_Then why? Why am I alive?_

"The Maker does have a sick sense of humor. I should have died in the wilds, but the scouts had to show up by some cruel will of fate. What was I doing there? _Why_ was I saved? If I've no purpose, why do I persevere?" she questioned herself quietly, but received no answers. At times like this, she would give anything to hear her that strange, monotone voice whisper to her. It had whispered to her many times before, speaking words of wisdom when needed, and words of malice when ignored. It didn't matter; she would have grasped at whatever words presented to her. The silence was deafening, ringing in her ears until she felt the cold extent of her isolation.

These past two months proved her existence meaningless; she had done nothing for anyone. She hadn't accomplished anything of importance, and this realization made her understand that, ultimately, she was valued by no one. She felt completely alone, and even though she was starting to question the allegiance of the peculiar voice in her head, she longed to hear its low tone in the back of her mind. One small hint of companionship was all she craved, but of course, life with its cruelty left her alone in the dark.

Valora sighed and shut her eyes. She just wanted the day to be over, for the ball to come and go quickly so she could stop feeling so uncertain about it all. Maybe then the melancholy air of the day would fade and be replaced with a new enthusiasm for life. She could only hope. The more she lay there convincing herself that her life was destined for nothing, the more she felt like just that—_nothing_. That sense of hollowness only heightened the urge to release herself to the void in her mind that constantly beckoned for her to let go of life. She felt like she deserved it; she believed she deserved to be swallowed up, taken over, blotted out of existence by that black abyss in her head. _No one would miss me if I let go, because . . ._ Her eyes clenched tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down her fallen face.

"I mean nothing."

Suddenly, her door emitted a low creak, startling her away from the black hands that were wrapping their spindly fingers around her last shred of hope. She shot up from her resting position and froze, eyes darting toward the source of the sound. The wooden door was slightly ajar, allowing a soft light to pool into a bare corner of her room. She could hear a quiet rustling against the ground, but her eyes could not match it up to a realistic image.

Her heart sped up as a pitch-black silhouette entered her room, treading towards her with quiet, gentle footsteps. The rigid gait it possessed was familiar yet frightening, looking as though it may lash out in anger with the large object it held in its hands. It did not, however. It paused beside her, and she could feel the unnatural heat radiating from its being, causing her muscles to tense in fear. She ducked her chin to her chest and clamped her eyes shut, as if the act could make everything simply disappear like any childhood nightmare would. But this was no nightmare; it was real. Valora was all too aware of that as she felt a light pressure on her feet. She gasped, her irrational imagination carrying her away to a dark, frightening place in her mind. The shadow had planted an object on her feet to hold them in place, keep her from escaping_—_and now it was lingering near her, contemplating its next move. Would it kill her next? Smother her with her own pillow? Stab her through the heart, or drink the marrow from her bones?

But these were only the nightmarish thoughts that Valora's warped imagination had crafted. The shadow meant no harm as it leaned over her, propping itself up with a hand on her bed. She felt an area of the mattress go down gradually under its soft weight, producing an extensive squeak from the springs within. She could sense the silhouette staring down at her from above like a hawk eyeing its prey, but she couldn't make a move. It was a familiar frozen feeling, an icy chill down her spine that left her with only a strangled breath trapped in her lungs.

There was a slight touch, tentative fingertips brushing against her jaw, coaxing her to lift her head up. It was a comforting touch, one that told her there was no need to be afraid. One that let her know she was safe. She raised her head and opened her eyes up into the darkness, seeing nothing, but feeling a wonderful relief seep through her body, releasing the tension from her muscles. She allowed her pent up breath to flow out with freedom, a feeling so foreign and beautiful that it made her eyes sting with the weight of its wonder.

A welled up tear escaped her eye, rolling down her cheek for only a moment before it was brushed away by the gentle swipe of a thumb. Her heart jumped at the affectionate gesture; it was as if all of her sorrows were bottled up in that single tear, the one wiped entirely away by this dark, benevolent being. She closed her eyes with a new sense of wholeness, feeling the presence hovering inches away from her, surrounding her, blocking out the emptiness of the world with an overpowering aura of empathy—of peace.

"You mean everything," a deep, silky sweet voice murmured, almost close enough for her to taste the familiarity. Cole's warm breath wisped across her ear, sending a tormenting chill down the elf's spine. She could feel his voice reverberating in her ears and ringing throughout her entire body, which caused an unintentional sigh to escape from her lips. She immediately bit her lip to stifle the noise, but she could tell Cole had already noticed by the sound of his timid gulp. He traced his fingertips along her jaw, up to her cheekbone, working his way back to tuck her hair behind one long, pointed ear. She could feel his hand trembling in apprehension as it trailed through the soft locks of her hair, unsure of the motions but irrefutably positive of the message they conveyed.

There was a pause, a prolonged moment of stillness as the young man let his fingers linger in her hair. She felt the brim of his hat trail along the top of her head, causing her hair to stand on end.

He was close. Very close.

Valora's heart was drumming almost loud enough to be heard through the silence, raising an unseen flush to her cheeks. Her lips tingled in anticipation of his next move, her fingers gripping lightly at the sheets as she waited for any sign of movement from the body hovering above her. She could faintly feel the warmth of his rhythmic breaths melding with her own, and it slowly tempted her forward . . .

Cole allowed his fingers to flex in her hair as he felt her inch towards him, but they shivered in uncertainty. He could almost breathe in her air as she came closer. Her need was back, washing over her in hard waves. The waves rushed out of her in shallow breaths, pouring the need over his lips until he felt them prickle with longing. Warm sensations slithered along his skin as he felt her nose brush lightly against his.

_Just a little closer . . ._

He slowly propped a knee on the mattress, running his fingers down through the soft waves of her hair. The desire she emanated from each motion sent his heart ramming against his chest.

_Almost_. . .

His hand abandoned her hair to snake around her waist and press against her back, pulling her body up closer to his own. Neither one made a move to close that final inch between them.

_Sweet simmering in her scent, a spell to sunder the spirit . . . Have to fill the feeling, lips locking in location, learning to sing a new song, but . . . _His mind wanted it, was willing him forward; but the nerves were sending sharp little pinpricks to his heart, pulling him away—a traitorous tug-o-war between temptation and trepidation. He heard the scrape of her nails against the sheets as her anticipation elevated to its peak, giving one final kick to his heart.

_No. Can't_. _Too much. __Not ready, not right here, not right now._ His sharp intake of breath was immediately followed by retreating hands. It took everything he had to pull away from her, but it didn't make sense to him. He needed to think, needed to sort out the feelings before he let them take him over like they wanted to. His mind was muddled and his breathing a mess as he stumbled for the door like a drunken man.

"Wait!" Valora cried, releasing her grip on the sheets to reach out for his arm.

But he wasn't there.

The door had already been closed, drowning out the vague light that had briefly filtered through the room. Valora was left alone once again. Well, not entirely alone. She could still feel the lingering sensation of his fingers grazing her cheek, the comfort he bestowed upon her with a simple touch. Although comfort wasn't the only feeling he'd left her with in that moment. She bit at her bottom lip to ease the tingle of desire in it, having to accept the fact that it would not be satisfied.

Her deep breaths were the only sounds permeating the room as she sat back motionless in her bed, troubled. Her thoughts were gradually settling down, becoming more coherent as her heart began to slow to a steady pace. The heat racing through her body cooled down to the usual chill she possessed when she wasn't bundled under several blankets. _What in Thedas just happened? _

She had never been that close to someone before, never had that compelling urge to be even closer. It wasn't something she was familiar with, only something she had heard about in stories but never considered for herself. At the alienage, there was no one to even consider; everyone was either too young, too old, or just not the right type. But all at once, there was one. One who brought out something formerly withheld inside of her. One that called that side of her to want_ him_.

_Cole._

_A spirit_.

That's right . . . He was a spirit_. _She had to remember that. She had to stop thinking of him like he was human. He wasn't human, wasn't like everyone else. It was a fact so easy to overlook when she saw him, but she had to remind herself that his physical body was merely a construct conducted by a spirit. He couldn't be feeling what she was feeling. _Could he? _Every text she had studied over spirits said as much, that spirits were not bound to desires of the heart and flesh . . . but Cole seemed like he had been going entirely against that knowledge a few moments ago. Or was he just giving her what he thought she wanted? Was she as perverse as to think a spirit would actually want her in the same way that she wanted him? Or perhaps she wasn't imagining anything. He was made of flesh and bone; it was perfectly plausible for him to feel everything that she had.

_No, Valora. You need to stop._

She expelled a heavy sigh and shook her head, starting to rise from her bed when she was suddenly reminded of the pressure at her feet. She wiggled her toes, listening to the brushing sound they made against the object Cole had placed there moments ago. Valora raised a hand, willing a spark of benign blue flames to burst to life within her palm and light up each corner of the spacious room.

She gasped, bewildered, and her free hand flew up to her mouth. At the foot of her bed lay the azure dress that had entranced her only hours ago. She climbed off of the bed, throwing the blue flames up and watching as they stopped to levitate just above her head. She pulled the dress up, inspecting the delicate, low hanging sleeves and the generous dip of the gem-adorned neckline. The silk was soft to the touch, and it bowed out around the hips and flowed gracefully to the floor like the rippling waters of an elegant waterfall.

"Hey!" Valora nearly jumped out of her skin as Lavellan dipped her head through the door and boldly shouted at her. "Val! Are you going to stay in here all night? The ball is only a few hours away and you haven't even began to prepare!"

"Inquisitor! Can you never be bothered to knock?" Valora shouted back, but instead of the argument she was expecting, the woman's fire-lit face rose in amazement.

"Oh! That dress would look brilliant on you! How the hell did you get that? They won't let me wear a dress. It's supposedly a thing for _things,_ you know? We aren't going to 'impress the nobles with our fancy dresses! We have to represent the Inquisition!' Blah!" Lavellan mocked Cullen's gruff voice and proceeded to enter the room. She had been drinking; it was evident in the way she staggered around before clutching to the knob of the door to regain balance.

"I would ask you to help me with putting it on, but I don't think you're in quite the right state," Valora said.

"I'm in the left state!" Lavellan slurred, and immediately toppled forward. Valora rushed over to her to keep her from falling face down on the hard concrete. Catching her with her free arm, she moved to her side to link the arm around her waist for support. Lavellan wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulder to steady herself. "Sorry."

"Inquisitor, let's get you back to your advisors. How did you even climb those steps like this?" Valora asked, but the woman only gave a small burp in response. With the dress in one arm and Lavellan in the other, Valora guided them back to the war room for final preparations.

This wasn't the best start to the night, but perhaps the rest of the night would look up. Even though there were more questions than ever flooding her mind, she could at least hope for things to get better. Especially after that infuriating, wonderful, confusing encounter with Cole. She silently vowed to find that ghost of a man as soon as she returned from Halamshiral and demand an explanation for his odd behavior. Next time she saw Cole, there would be no vanishing into thin air for him; no, she would tie his feet together if she had to.

_He won't run away next time. I _will_ have answers._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Hhhhhhh. I was going to make this and the next chater into one, but that would've taken too long and I'm impatient and wanted to get this

out here since I haven't posted this week. Anywho, hope you enjoyed this one… heh...

**Syrilth **I know, right? I'd like to give him a nudge too because now it's just ridiculous. Thanks for another great review, friend! (:

**Al'-chan24 **thank you, you're a doll! I'll try to keep it up, but sometimes I do get discouraged. Thanks for another amazing review, friend! (:

**Asilyessam **omfmg did you really? That is flattery of the highest degree. I didn't know I had such an effect? I feel super inadequate about my writing most of the time, but that review made me extreeemely happy, so thank you soooo so much!

I wanna take this space to thank EVERYONE who is reading this story. You're all just... so terrific. Excuse my bad grammar and mediocrity. I'm allowed to do that in the author's notes. By the way, if anyone is interested, I did make a playlist for these two because I'm trash and they have become my otp. The songs range from indie to folk to dubstep to rock to metal and it's just really fun for everyone involved. It won't let me post the link right here so it's on my profile if you care to look~


End file.
